Kim Possible: The Last
by Jezrianna2.0
Summary: [Complete]Experimenting with a new kind of story, for me anyway: a Kim PossibleSuperman fusion.  Rated 'T' for violence and some suggestive language.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's forward: This story is a departure for me, an experiment, as it were. I'm not into fusions, ala those written by Classic Cowboy (check out his stuff anyway). Most of the time they just don't do anything for me. Sometimes, though, one will click. Classic's Kim Possible/Captain America fusion is a case in point (and hopefully he'll update it someday, hint, hint). The idea for this story popped into my head a few days ago, and wouldn't go away. So I decided to see if I could write a fusion and make it work. Let me know what you think._

Krypton

Jor-el took a meandering route from the tram station toward his home. His latest meeting with the Science Council, the (theoretically) meritocracy that ruled the planet Krypton, hadn't gone well.

"Abject disaster is more like it," Jor-'el muttered under his breath. He was a widely known figure in the scientific community, the latest in a long line of brilliant minds to come from the House of 'El. Alas, fame was not synonymous with respect. Jor-'el was honest enough with himself to admit that his ideas and theories were often...controversial. But challenging the status quo was what science was about, after all. If you simply accepted current ideas as the last word on things, progress came to a grinding halt.

Jor-'el snorted bitterly. He would have been okay with the label 'controversial'. More often than not, though, he was referred to in the media as 'being on the fringes of scientific thought'. Some even went so far as to call him a crackpot.

So perhaps it wasn't all that surprising that his announcement that Krypton was doomed had fallen on skeptical ears. Jor-'el actually smiled briefly at that. He hadn't believed his own idea at first. It was too far fetched even for him to accept. So he'd done more research, gathered more data, conducted a multitude of experiments. Everything pointed to a planet-wide cataclysm.

He still hadn't been able to believe it.

So he'd shown the data to his wife, Lara, and asked her if she thought his conclusions were valid.

Jor-'el's thoughts strayed momentarily. Lara. She of the honey blonde hair and green eyes, who in spite of her incredible intellect had accepted his proposal of marriage and borne his child. She was a biochemist, not a geologist. Neither was Jor-'el, for that matter. But like himself Lara had a keen, analytical mind and a bloodhound's nose for logic errors.

She'd read his report. Three times. She'd questioned him sharply on his methods and his controls. And finally, Lara had concluded that there was a high probability that he was correct.

Krypton was home to an ancient and advanced civilization, one that had explored its home star system thoroughly, and many of the surrounding ones as well. The principles of Faster-than-Light travel were well known, but Kryptonian's were an insular people, and had never traveled beyond the bounds of their own planet. If the Kryptonian race was to survive, that would have to change.

Still not convinced he was correct, Jor-'el had begun construction of a prototype hyper-capable ship, one that could show the world that escape from the impending disaster was possible. Lara had begun a survey of nearby stars, looking for a world that could support Kryptonian life.

They thought they had years.

Jor-'el finished his prototype and began testing it, sending it on short hops, first within the Krypton system, later to their star's closest neighbors. Along the way, he and Lara decided to start a family.

Jor-'el's thoughts came back to the present. Things were accelerating. As his data became more voluminous, the potential for error dropped. His latest calculations suggested that Krypton had less than a year left. If there was to be an evacuation, it had to start now.

He'd gone public.

True, he was widely regarded as a crackpot, but the sheer weight of data he'd provided, along with the fact that he'd waited two years to go public, lent weight to his claims.

Panic had ensued. In an effort to allay the public's fears and demands, Jor-'el had been allowed to present his findings to the Science Council. They were understandably skeptical, but again, the sheer volume of data Jor-'el presented kept them from dismissing him outright. He was given extra resources, and told to gather more data. He had. He gave regular reports to the Council, who regularly deferred judgment.

Less than an hour ago, he'd presented his final report. Krypton would explode. They had a year at most, maybe as little as six months. The evidence for this was, in Jor-'el's mind, overwhelming.

The Council had rejected his conclusions. There was no danger at all, they said. They'd forbidden him to so much as mention his insane notion ever again, on penalty of banishment to the Phantom Zone.

'Well, if I can't get them to save themselves, at least I can save Lara and...' Jor-el's thought was cut off by a shuddering of the ground beneath his feet. It didn't last long, but it was soon followed by another. His eyes flicked up. Far away, on the horizon, was the crest of Mount Kaladar, a ridge shaped volcano that Jor-'el had studied thoroughly as a part of his research. It had become active recently, venting steam and ash, but now...

...now it was vomiting white-hot lava. From one of the younger vents, Jor-'el noted absently. Even as he watched as second vent, many radd'as away from the first, began to spew molten rock. Jor-'el stopped strolling, and ran the rest of the way home.

"Lara! Lara!" Jor-'el shouted as he hurried toward his home's laboratories.

"Jor-'el!" Lara exclaimed as he entered them, fear and relief plain in her voice. "Kaladar is erupting!"

"I saw that," Jor-'el said grimly. "What other data..?"

Lara gestured to the computer system she and Jor-'el had set up to monitor world-wide seismic data and news reports. Volcanoes all over Krypton were starting to erupt. Massive groundquakes were shaking the planet from pole to pole. Jor-'el went to the display that showed the estimated time remaining and hit the refresh button.

He'd thought they had months.

They didn't even have days.

They had hours.

* * *

Frantic preparation kept terror from overwhelming him. Jor-'el labored like a madman to ready the craft. 

"Lara, bring the baby. The two of you..."

Lara cut him off with a gesture.

"I'm not going, husband," she said calmly.

"Lara!" Jor-'el protested.

Lara smiled, approaching him and catching hold of his garments. "My place is with you, my love," she said softly. "Besides, you know as well as I do that the ship couldn't carry both of us to a suitable world."

Jor-'el wilted.

"I want you to live," he whispered.

"I know you do," Lara answered. "But that isn't going to happen." It was a cold, hard, cruel fact.

"Bring the baby," Jor-'el repeated.

Lara placed the baby in the life support compartment, then turned toward her husband.

"I need to program the guidance system," Lara said. "What world are we sending her to?"

Jor-'el looked down at the squirming infant Lara had just let go of. His daughter. She was pink and chubby, like any healthy infant. A thin cap of hair, red like his own, covered her head. She had been sleeping, but awakened briefly and looked up at him, her green eyes, so like her mother's, broadcasting her displeasure at being moved.

"Earth," Jor-'el answered.

"Earth?" Lara repeated, sounding upset.

"Your own studies show that their biosphere will sustain her," Jor-'el said simply.

"But they're so primitive," Lara protested. "Priconyala is closer."

"She will look like one of them," Jor-'el countered. "The Priconyalan's are..."

Lara knew what Jor-'el was getting at. The Pricon's were bizarre looking creatures, trilaterally symmetrical. For all that they had a highly advanced civilization, her daughter would stick out like a sore thumb amongst such creatures.

"She won't _be_ one of them," Lara countered anyway, though there wasn't much heat in her voice.

"Earth is the only other suitable planet the prototype can reach, Lara," Jor-'el argued. He saw his wife's face tense to continue the discussion, so he played his trump card.

"On Earth, at least, she can find a mate."

It was Lara's turn to wilt. Her daughter might grow up a stranger on a strange world, but she wouldn't be an outcast, alone. She might find someone to love and cherish her as Lara loved and cherished, and was loved and cherished by, her husband.

"Very well," Lara assented.

* * *

Jor-'el and Lara watched the ship ascend into the night sky. Even at supralight speeds it would take years for it to reach Earth. A temporal inhibiter in the life support module would make those years seem like only hours to its precious cargo, though. The ground shook again. Jor-'el looked over his shoulder. Behind him, Mount Kaladar was tearing itself apart. The entire summit was ablaze now, and constant groundquakes shook the area. 

Jor-'el looked up again.

"To the people of Earth I bequeath you, Kara Jor-'el. May Rao watch over and protect you always," he whispered. Another quake shook the house, but it didn't feel the same as the others. Jor-'el looked around and saw that his house, along with most of the surrounding area, was sliding toward a huge fissure that was opening nearby.

He turned and took Lara's hand. She smiled at him. They had time for one last kiss, before the end.

Outside Middleton, Colorado

James Possible lay on a blanket, staring up at the night sky. Beside him, his wife Patricia was nestled in his arms, playing idly with his chest hair, deep in thought. They were going through a rough time in their relationship. They had been married seven years, and James (Jim to his friends) loved Patty more than anything. The fact that she'd been four times pregnant and four times failed to bring a child to term meant nothing to him. But it meant something to her. After her latest miscarriage, Patty had refused to accept that it had happened. She pretended to still be pregnant. At first James had played along, hoping Patty would come to her senses. But she hadn't. So, finally, when Patty's 'pregnancy' entered it's eighth month, James laid down the law. The confrontation had been ugly, and in the end Patty had collapsed in grief, but she'd finally agreed to admit to the world that she wasn't pregnant any more.

Considering that to be a major accomplishment, James hadn't insisted that Patty 'tell' right away. Instead, he'd suggested a camping trip, where the two of them could heal the hurts from their argument. They'd hiked, gone skinny dipping, and fished. They'd eaten a lunch and dinner cooked over an open camp fire. They had just finished making love, and were basking in the afterglow, looking up at the stars.

A meteor blazed across the sky. James nudged Patricia. "Shooting star, honey. Make a wish."

Patricia turned in time to see the last of it, then looked at James and smiled sadly. "Well," she said, "I already got my first wish, for a wonderful husband, so..."

James smiled too, leaning in to rub noses with Patty before exchanging a gentle kiss. He knew she had wished, again, for a child.

"Oh! James! Look at that one!" Patty exclaimed, pointing at an other meteor. An other followed, then several more. James' curiosity was piqued. In addition to being a rocket scientist (or aerospace engineer, whichever you prefer) he was an amateur astronomer.

"That's odd," he said, thinking aloud. "There are no meteor showers on the calendar." That was true. Unlike known and predictable showers, such as the Leonids or the Perseids, this one was completely unexpected, and incredibly dense. The numbers grew quickly to dozens, then scores.

"It's so beautiful," Patricia said softly.

James was about to agree when a big one appeared, much brighter than the others. It came on and on, getting brighter and brighter until the whole area seemed to light up. It passed overhead with a sky tearing roar. James turned to see a column of water rising from the lake.

"That one hit!" he shouted redundantly. Moments later another meteor impacted in the woods nearby, knocking down several trees.

"James!" Patty screamed, pointing at the sky. A huge meteor, far larger than any of the others, was heading straight at them. But after observing it for just a few moments, James knew he was wrong.

"That's no meteor! James exclaimed. It couldn't be. For one things, its glow was fading, not brightening. For another it was slowing down, noticeably, much more so than mere atmospheric drag could account for. Soon an arrowhead shape became apparent. Then the thing was hovering just above the ground, not a hundred feet away. Three struts unfolded from the underside, and it settled, silently.

What apprehension James felt was drowned out by curiosity. Rising, he wrapped a blanket around his waist and headed for the thing.

"James!" Patricia called after him. Knowing he wasn't listening to her, Patricia followed him, pausing only to wrap herself in a blanket as well.

James halted twenty or so feet away for the object. His ears picked up hisses, pops, and pings as the thing cooled. Patricia came up beside him.

"What is it, James?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"It's a ship," James answered, far more calmly than he felt.

"Is it ours?" Patricia asked.

James shook his head. "Patty, I'm familiar with the most modern spacecraft technology on Earth. Nobody, anywhere, has a ship like this, not even on their drawing boards."

"Then where did it come from?"

James just turned his eyes toward the heavens. Out there, the gesture said.

There was a sound. A probe, or something, had emerged from the top of the ship and began to sweep the area.

James and Patricia drew back slightly as the thing turned to point at them.

"I think we'd bet..." James' voice was cut off as a soft blue light enveloped them.

Patricia found she could neither move nor speak. Oddly, though, she wasn't afraid. The blue light was...comforting, somehow, like a reassuring touch from her mother.

The blue light faded, and an image appeared, of a man in strange clothes. The man began to speak, but Patricia couldn't understand him. Symbols appeared in the air around him, and he pointed to them in turn, continuing to speak.

"Mathematical equations," Patricia heard her husband breathe. "He's trying to communicate!"

"Can you underst..."

James cut Patricia's question off with a gesture. "Not yet, but I will," he declared, never taking his eyes off the display. A second figure appeared, a woman, carrying a squirming bundle. She held it out, and James and Patricia saw that it was a baby. The woman looked briefly at the man, then stepped forward and held the baby out to Patricia. Patricia reached out instinctively, but her hands passed though the image, and it winked out.

There was a louder noise, a whirring sound. A large panel was opening at the front of the ship. A frightened wail emerged from the opening, and before James could utter a word, either of warning or protest, Patricia was there, lifting out a squalling, squirming form.

"Patricia, don't," emerged from James' mouth far too late. His wife cuddled the creature to her breast. The cries stilled as the thing nuzzled at her, searching for a nipple.

Patricia opened the cloths the thing was wrapped in. "It's a girl," she said softly. Then, turning so James could see it better, "Isn't she adorable?"

James stared at his wife. He wasn't dumb, and there was a definite hint in her voice.

"Patricia O'Rourke Possible, are you thinking what I think you're thinking?" he demanded sternly.

"People already thought I was over eight months pregnant," she said suggestively. "We can just say the meteors frightened me into labor, and you delivered her."

It was a simple, effective, entirely reasonable plan, James had to admit. Almost against his will he stepped forward, unable to give voice to his completely reasonable counter-arguments. Reaching out, he gently stroked the infant's fuzzy scalp. She turned at his touch and cooed at him, and his heart melted.

"What should we call her?' James asked in token of his surrender.

"Let's name her after my Nana," Patricia proposed.

The baby had taken hold of one of his fingers. James slipped his free hand around his wife's shoulders. Gazing down at their new daughter he said, "Welcome to our family, Kimberly Anne Possible."


	2. Chapter 2

_MatthewC: I think I had most of your points in mind (at least subconsciously) but thanks anyway for reminding me._

_Proteus: I disagree that Kim was ever 'your basic, average girl'. I do agree that this is a risky concept. It'll be hard to pull off, but that's why I'm trying it._

_Gargoylesama: At present, Argo doesn't figure into the story (if it exists at all)._

_Thanks to: mattb3671, lab1152, daywalkr82, sirka, campy, TheFourthman, Wanderer3, Triaxx2, scottgrubb, eckles, Classic Cowboy, firedragonboy, Darkcloud1, Alan Wilkinson, ron-sama._

Middleton, Colorado

Kim Possible made her way along a hallway on the second floor of the Middleton school complex. It was the first day of the new school year, and Kim was excited, as usual. Take what she was doing at the moment: searching for her locker. They hadn't had lockers in elementary school. Lockers were for big kids.

'Well, now I have a locker,' Kim thought smugly. 'I guess that means I'm a big kid now.'

The hallways was crowded with students, seventh and eighth graders engaged in the same activity she was. As she walked Kim caught sight of a familiar face.

"Hey, Ron," she called, waving at him. The blond boy who had been her best friend since pre-kindergarten broke out in a grin when he saw her.

"Hey, Kim!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I found my locker!" he declared, gesturing at the open sheet metal door beside him.

"Nice," Kim allowed. She checked the number on the door and did a little math in her head. Since the lockers seemed to have been assigned in alphabetical order, her own was about forty lockers farther down the hall. Kim returned her attention to Ron and his locker. She saw he'd already decorated it. A picture of his favorite pro wrestler, Steel Toe, culled from a magazine, had been taped to the inside of the door, along with what Kim supposed was the mandatory-for-a-thirteen-year-old-boy picture of girl in a bikini, also taken from magazine. Partly overlapping the latter was a picture of the two of them, taken at a joint Possible/Stoppable family picnic earlier in the summer. There was also a wallet sized print of her sixth grade class portrait. Kim felt a warm smile spread across her face. Ron liked her, but not 'that way'. At least he didn't seem to. He treated much like her brothers Jim and Tim treated each other. Of course, that might change after puberty hit. Kim's own body was starting to develop, and boys were paying more attention to her as a result. When Ron's hormones kicked in their relationship was sure to change, at least somewhat. Kim shook herself. Her mother's words about not borrowing trouble echoed through her mind.

"Found yours yet?" Ron asked, breaking Kim's train of thought.

"No, not yet," she admitted. A glance at one of the many clocks that graced the corridors of the school showed she had less than ten minutes until the school day officially began. "I'd better get busy," she said and turned to go. "See you in math class," she added, grinning at him. Ron grinned back, then busied himself in his locker.

* * *

Kim was scanning the numbers on the lockers, looking for the one that matched her orientation form, when a peculiar sensation overtook her. Her ears began to ring faintly, and she felt a tight sensation across the back of her head. The noise of the other students seemed to fade, and she clearly heard a single voice say, "There she is. Cover me." 

Kim swallowed. The voice belonged to Bonnie Rockwaller, eighth grade drama queen, captain of the junior high cheerleading team, and no friend of Kim's. Just what Kim had done to draw Bonnie's ire in the first place, she couldn't even guess. Her own theory was that Bonnie just enjoyed being mean to other people.

Time seemed to slow down. Kim heard footsteps coming up behind her. She recognized the particular rhythm of Bonnie's walk. She even thought she recognized the unique scuffing sound the soles of Bonnie's favorite pair of shoes made as they rubbed on the polished concrete floor.

Kim had always had good hearing, but lately it seemed so acute that it was sometimes scary. Like now. She didn't turn around, and there were no reflective surfaces for her to look in, but Kim knew, just from the slightly heavier fall of Bonnie's left foot that she had her left shoulder thrown forward in preparation for ramming Kim into the bank of lockers along the wall.

Kim began to hear a lub-dub sound, like she sometimes did around people. If Kim hadn't known it was impossible, she would have sworn it was Bonnie's heartbeat she was hearing. The sound grew louder. Bonnie was almost on top of her...now!

Kim turned to one side. Not enough to avoid contact entirely: she felt Bonnie's shoulder brush across her back. But enough to send Bonnie, who had expected Kim to absorb most of her momentum, stumbling and struggling to avoid a fall.

The hallway erupted with giggles and laughter, as Bonnie had no doubt hoped. Unfortunately for Bonnie, they were all directed at her.

"Trip over your own feet again, Bonnie?" Kim asked sarcastically.

Bonnie glared daggers at Kim.

"You...you just, just shut up, you little twerp!" Bonnie screeched. "And watch where you stand."

"I'm sorry, Bonnie," Kim jeered. "I didn't realize you hadn't learned to walk around other people yet." More chuckles erupted from the crowd. Bonnie's face went beet red and contorted into an ugly scowl. For a moment Kim thought Bonnie was going to attack her right there, but common sense seemed to take over, and Bonnie's expression shifted to one of haughty indifference.

"Whatever," Bonnie said, sounding bored. "Like I have time for a bunch of seventh grade losers anyway." With that she turned on her heel and stalked away.

Kim watched Bonnie leave, then turned toward the lockers. Ah, there was hers! Kim pushed Bonnie Rockwaller out of her mind and began trying to open her locker's built in combination lock.

* * *

Kim took a seat in the cafeteria across from Ron. 

"How's your first day of Seventh Grade going, Ron?" she asked.

Ron didn't answer. He was too busy trying to cram the entire contents of his tray into his mouth at one time.

"Ron, manners?" Kim chided. "You have half an hour, you know."

"I'm starving, Kim," Ron protested feebly. "I haven't eaten since breakfast, for Pete's sake."

"At least chew with your mouth shut, please."

"Fine." Ron chewed noisily, then swallowed. "So far so good," he said, getting back to Kim's question. "You?"

"Me too, apart from a run-in with Bonnie."

"I heard about that," Ron grinned. "Nice job dodging the sneak attack."

Some what to Ron's surprise, Kim didn't laugh, or even smile. She wasn't upset, exactly, but she wasn't happy either.

"What's the matter, Kim?" Ron asked, suddenly concerned.

Kim looked around, then leaned close to Ron. "It was the ear thing again," Kim explained. "I heard her coming."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. So you have good hearing. So what?"

Kim looked down at the table. "It's not just that, Ron." She hesitated, then looked up at him again. "You know I'm gonna try out for the cheerleading team, right?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded.

"And how I've been practicing all summer?" That was true. Kim had been taking dance and gymnastics lessons.

"And?" Ron probed.

Kim looked away again. "It's just, well, I don't know." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I'm just so much better than the other girls in my classes."

Ron gave her a blank look.

"I can run faster, jump higher, and I'm a lot stronger than any other girl my age. I'm even stronger than some of the older students."

Ron shook his head. "Uh, that's called 'being athletic', K.P." Kim frowned at him, so he elaborated. "Look, you just hit...uh..." Ron blushed, then gestured at Kim's chest. "...you know, puberty."

Kim blushed as well.

"Your body is changing," Ron continued. "You know, starting to show it's full potential. Maybe you're just a natural athlete?"

Kim smiled in spite of herself. Whenever she was in a funk, Ron was always ready to crack jokes or make a fool of himself to lighten her mood. And who knew? Maybe he was right.

* * *

Kim finished her routine, chest heaving from her exertions. Bonnie, sitting at a table with two other cheerleaders, looked stunned, as did the girls on either side of her. Kim hid a smile. Right before she'd started she'd gotten that peculiar sensation at the back of her head and, even from all the way across the gym had heard Bonnie whisper to her companions, "I gave her a routine no girl can do." 

'I showed you, didn't I, Rockwaller?' Kim thought gleefully. The routine had been hard. So hard Kim had been forced to push herself almost to her limits. What the result had been, Kim didn't yet know. Finally the other cheerleaders began to applaud enthusiastically, while Bonnie assumed a glum expression.

"Fine," Bonnie said morosely, "You make the squad...barely."

The feeling of triumph and exaltation Kim felt came out as a, "Yes!", complete with fist pump.

Then the gym doors exploded inward, and Ron came running in.

"Kim! You got a hit on your website!" he exclaimed. "A major hit!"

"Babysitting the Turner twins again?" Kim asked skeptically.

"No, danger major," Ron clarified.

"Danger?"

"Somebody needs your help!"

"Uh, Kim, we're about to start practice here," Bonnie chimed in, clearly irritated.

Kim hesitated, then came to a decision. "I'm sorry!" she apologized, taking Ron's hand and heading for the doors, "I'll never ditch again, I swear!"

* * *

Kim took a last look at the web of laser beams that filled the entryway to John Paisley's vault, or strong room, or whatever it was, then turned and walked to the far wall. Turning again she took a deep breath, while Ron looked on apprehensively. The notion that she was about to risk her life for two total strangers barely registered in Kim's mind. She had to get to that remote. Kim put her game face on, then started forward and jumped into the room. 

Almost at once she ran into trouble. On her third handspring she found herself sailing right at one of the beams. A test with a handkerchief had confirmed Mr. McHenry's (Mr. Paisley's security consultant, trapped along with his employer) assertion that the beams were lethal. Kim, not looking forward to being burned to charcoal, willed herself down, even if wishing couldn't change the laws of physics.

To her utter surprise Kim felt herself change course. The floor came rushing up, and Kim barely got herself positioned for landing. She stumbled anyway, falling against a wall, one of the deadly beams humming just beside her head. Most people might have frozen in panic after something like that, but Kim Possible wasn't most people. Steeling her nerves, Kim threw herself into motion again, leaping and vaulting and tumbling until...she brought her foot down on the remote and shut off the beams.

"Boo-yah, Kim!" Ron cheered, stepping into the room.

Mr. McHenry regarded Kim with amazement. "A thirteen-year-old?" he asked incredulously.

"She's Kim Possible," Ron gloated "And just like the website says, she can do anything!"

* * *

"It was no big," Kim declaimed for the fourth time, after yet another reporter asked if she'd been afraid. 

James Possible shut off the television and looked at his wife. Patricia looked back with a concerned expression. James understood it perfectly. He and Patricia had wrestled for years with the problem of how to treat their daughter. They wanted to protect her, to keep her and her secret safe. But at the same time they didn't want to straightjacket her either. Kim was an extrovert, full of energy and a desire to make a difference in the world. It wasn't easy to tell a person like that that it was better for them not to have a high profile, that they ought to blend in. James knew he would never hold back from giving his all. Nor would Patricia. So it would be more than a little hypocritical to tell Kim not to do the best she could. Only...

After years of work James had deciphered enough of the recording Kim's biological parents had sent along with her to pick up hints Jor-'el had dropped that Kim would have abilities far beyond those of humans. Just what those abilities might be wasn't clear, though. So far Kim had seemed like a normal kid, getting sick, getting cuts and scrapes and bruises, getting cavities. If she was going to turn into some kind of super-woman, James had expected to see signs of it. What if it was happening now? What, if anything, should he do about it? _Could_ he do anything about it?

"Do you think we should tell her?" Patricia's voice broke the silence in the living room of the Possible residence.

James grimaced. "I don't know," he admitted after some thought. "Part of me says 'yes' but another part says 'no'." James looked at Patricia. "What do you think, Patty?"

Patricia frowned thoughtfully. "I think, well, you know how puberty is, Jim," she faltered. "Kim is just starting to figure out who she is as a person, to set her own course in life. If we tell her she isn't human..." Patricia shook her head. "Let's wait," she decided. "Let's wait until Kim asks us." Patricia smiled at her husband. "She's a smart girl, after all, even if she can be clueless in some regards. She'll figure it out eventually, and then she'll come to us. We can tell her then."

Elsewhere

"Miss Gogh!"

The bellowed words echoed in the confines of the laboratory. Sheila Gogh, biochemist and self-confessed genius, wondered for the umpteenth time why she put up with Dr. Lipsky and his temper. Sure he was brilliant. Of course he had won the Nobel Prize for his research in genetics. That didn't change the fact that he was loud, rude, and a generally unpleasant person to be around.

"I'm in the same room as you, Drew," Sheila said, voice dripping with contempt. "Use your 'inside' voice."

Sheila watched, fascinated, as Doctor Andrew P. Theodore Lipsky's face went mottled. She sometimes toyed with the idea of seeing if she could goad him into having an aneurysm. Lipsky struggled mightily, and got control of his emotions.

"I don't pay you to sass me, Miss Gogh..." he began.

"Doctor Gogh," Sheila corrected, and the mottling came back briefly. Lipsky paid well (and Sheila knew she'd remember why she stuck around: the money), but twitting him was the best entertainment around, and Sheila found she couldn't resist.

"Dr. Gogh," Lipsky amended, infusing his words with false pleasantry. "I was wondering, learned colleague, if you had finished the latest batch of gene sequencings I asked you to do?"

"Why yes, I have," Sheila replied, pasting a mockingly friendly smile on her face. She held out a thick binder. "Here are the results. And, Drew," she added, batting her eyelashes at him, "If you told me what your stupid plan is, I might be able to help you with it," she finished angrily.

"All in good time, Sheila, all in good time," Lipsky assured her. He chortled, then cackled, then broke into the 'evil laugh' he'd been working on. Sheila turned and headed for the door, hoping to be out of the room before Lipsky started in on his rant.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: First, just so you know, this is a short story, not an epic. It covers a lot of time, but not in great detail, which may confuse people. I may skip months or even years between chapters. Second, this is the very first fic of mine to feature everybody's favorite naked mole rat, Rufus!_

_Classic Cowboy: You're welcome, and I can't wait!_

_Campy: Thanks for pointing those out._

_MatthewC: I have a motivation in mind. I just hope I can make it sound plausible._

_Parareru: Most of your questions will be answered (I hope)._

_Thanks to: Cold-Chaos, mattb3671, eckles, Wanderer3, sirka, daywalkr82, Triaxx2, Jokerisdaking and GargoyleSama._

Kim shifted uncomfortably. Ron was sitting across from her in a booth at Bueno Nacho, his chin resting on his interlaced fingers, staring at her. It wasn't a hostile stare, of course. Nor was it a leering ogle of the kind some people sent her way. No, it was a 'who are you, and what have you done with Kim' kind of stare.

Unable to stand his relentless gaze, Kim frowned back at him.

"Ron? What are you staring at?" she demanded. If he were any other boy, Kim would have guessed he was checking out her cleavage. Kim smiled to herself. She was just a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday, and was finally at a point in her life where she was comfortable wearing what her mother called 'skimpy outfits'. Kim didn't see what the big deal was. So she liked camisole tops. So what? And sure, maybe this particular one was cut a bit lower than any of the others. Kim just happened to feel like wearing it, that was all. The fact that Josh (sigh) Mankey worked in one of the stores in the mall and Kim was going over there later had nothing to do with it.

Ron cocked his head, gave her a peculiar look and said, "Who are you, and what have you done with Kim?"

"Called that one," Kim muttered. Then, "I'm me, Ron. What makes you think otherwise?" Kim thought she might know, but didn't say anything.

Ron's expression morphed to one of concern. "Well," he said, "It just that school starts in a week. That fact should have you so excited you can't sit still, but there you are, sitting still."

Kim smiled sheepishly and relaxed. She'd called that one, too. "I don't know, Ron," Kim admitted, speaking slowly. "I really am looking forward to ninth grade. It's just...cheerleading I'm not so excited about."

"But you love cheerleading," Ron protested.

A tiny pink face popped up out of Ron's shirt pocket. "Rah! Rah!" a squeaking voice exclaimed.

"You said it, buddy," Ron said solemnly. "See K.P.? Even Rufus can't believe you're bummed about cheer squad."

Kim grinned at her best friend and his pet naked mole rat.

"It's not cheer squad itself I'm bummed about, so much as having to play second fiddle to Bonnie 'I'm the center of the universe' Rockwaller...again." Kim said the last word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Ron gave Kim a sympathetic look. He certainly understood her position. Kim would be going from Captain of the junior high squad to the lowest levels of the high school squad, a fact Bonnie was certain to rub in Kim's face at every opportunity.

"So try for Captain, why don't you?" he suggested.

Kim sat up straight and glared at him. "Ron," she said sharply, "you know as well as I do that the position of captain goes to the most popular girl on the squad. I'll have to be a junior before I have a real chance at it."

"If they gave it out on the basis of ability you'd win hands down," Ron grumbled.

Kim felt herself blush. Ron was one of the few boys who had even a faint idea of just how strong (and fast, and agile) she was, and he was the only one who wasn't weirded out by it.

"Nice of you to say so," Kim smiled, sipping her soda.

"And what's with that top?" Ron added, shaking his head.

"Yeah!" Rufus chirped, giving Kim a disapproving look.

"What's wrong with it?" Kim asked defensively.

"I know you have breasts, Kim. You don't need to show them to me."

"I am not..." Kim began, then, "You've been looking?"

"Newsflash, Kim," Ron said, pointing at himself. "Fourteen year old boy. Can't help but look." Ron looked away. "Especially when you flaunt them like that."

Kim looked down at her chest, then at Ron. She thought about making a snarky remark, but then thought better of it.

"Does it really make you uncomfortable?" she asked.

"Yeah, a little," Ron admitted sheepishly.

Kim smiled again. "I'll remember that," she promised."

"Beep-beep-be-deep!" The clear tones of the Kimmunicator rang through Bueno Nacho.

Kim's hand darted to her pocket and retrieved the electronic device. Activating it she asked, "What's the sitch, Wade?"

The moon face of Kim's recently acquired 'tech guru', as eight year old genius Wade Load referred to himself, blinked into existence on the Kimmunicator's small screen.

"Big trouble," Wade answered. "Professor Dementor just raided a private electronics lab out east. He stole something called..." Wade paused and looked at something off camera. "...called an interlinked capacitor relay," he finished, shaking his head.

"Which does...?" Kim prompted.

"Stores and discharges electricity," Wade told her. He frowned. "Apparently just calling it a capacitor wasn't good enough for the guy who invented it," he muttered, mostly to himself.

"Ride?" Kim asked.

"On it's way," Wade answered, "E.T.A. twenty minutes."

"Time for mission clothes, Ron," Kim said, rising.

* * *

"Is it just me, or are these henchmen bigger than usual?" Ron asked as he dodged a blow from a ham fisted man half again his height. 

"I'd say yes," Kim replied as she reared back and kicked yet another mountain of flesh out of her way. "Dementor's Napoleon complex must be getting worse."

Ron sighed. Mad scientists were hard to figure out. Sure, they might be real geniuses, but so often they did irrational things for no apparent reason. Take Dementor for example. The man stood barely four feet tall, yet was invariably sounded by huge lackeys and equally oversized gadgets.

Kim and Ron quickly cut a swathe through Dementor's henchmen. Okay, Kim did most of the cutting, and Ron found it strange that the henchmen didn't rush her, just came on in ones and twos. It probably said something about their intellects that they could watch their fellows get manhandled by a fourteen year old girl, and still not expect her to do the same to them.

Of course, Ron allowed, they didn't know about Kim's strength. But it really should have been obvious. Ron watched Kim throw a guy who had to weigh three hundred pounds, if he weighed an ounce, halfway across the large central chamber of Dementor's lair. True, she used a judo throw, and equally true, she probably couldn't have managed the throw without using judo, but still...

Suddenly there were no more henchmen. They had broken through the last line of Dementor's defenses. But they were too late. High above them they heard the insane cackle of Dementor's laughter, and the rapidly quickening thumping sound of spinning rotor blades.

"Vonce again, Kim Possible," Dementor taunted as, megaphone in hand, he leaned out the open hatch of the chopper's cargo compartment, "You haff failed to prevent my escape!"

Kim glared up at Dementor, even as she reached into her backpack and pulled out...a hairdryer.

Dementor went wild with laughter, even as the chopper lifted off. "Foolish girl!" he chortled. "To think that you could threaten the great Professor Dementor with a..."

Dementor didn't get to finish his thought. Kim's index finger squeezed, and the 'hairdryer' shot a weighted line toward the slowly rising helicopter. The line wrapped itself around one of the landing skids. Kim activated the winch function and went sailing skyward.

Dementor looked impressed.

"Not bad," he allowed, "But not good enough!" he finished. A knife appeared in hand, the blade flashing as he reached out and cut the monofilament line. Kim managed a surprised yelp then, arms and legs flailing, she fell, landing back first on the concrete floor.

"Kim!" Ron cried, ignoring Dementor's fading laughter, charging toward where Kim lay. She'd fallen fifty feet at least, and...

Ron's thoughts were numb as he fumbled for his own Kimmunicator. Kim would need a medi-evac and...

Kim tried to push herself up on one elbow.

"Ugh," she groaned.

"K.P., don't move. Your back..."

"Feels like I belly flopped off the high board at the pool," Kim winced. Ron knelt beside her, hands sliding beneath her, gently lifting, fingers probing at her ribs and spine.

Kim let out a few grunts and gasps, but soon found herself staring into the disbelieving brown eyes of her best friend.

"Nothing's broken," Ron said, very softly.

"Why should anything be broken?" Kim asked irritably. "I didn't fall that -" she glanced up at the chopper platform. She'd been parallel with it when gravity had arrested her assent, and it was a good five stories above her. "-far..." she finished, her voice trailing off.

Ron helped her to a sitting position, then ran his hand over her back again, going under her shirt and tracing her spine from neck to tailbone. Finally convinced she wasn't seriously hurt, Ron joined Kim in staring up at the platform.

"How did I manage that?" Kim wondered aloud.

* * *

Steven Parker was pleased and puzzled. Pleased that Sheila had seen fit to pay him a visit, but puzzled because, well, the last time he'd seen her she'd been storming out of his apartment, swearing she never wanted to see his face again. So what, he wondered, had brought her back? Surely it wasn't to try and regain a position on the staff. She been booted from the faculty of the Lawrence Gogh Memorial Cancer Institute years ago for unethical conduct, by her own brother no less, and had made it plain she was never going to come back to Gogh City either. It was perplexing, to say the least. But Steven managed a bright, polite smile when the dark haired beauty who was his ex-fiancé was ushered into his office. 

"Dr. Gogh," he said formally, smiling at her.

"No need to be so formal, Steven," Sheila pouted playfully, then strolled toward him. No, not strolled. She almost... strutted, swaying her hips suggestively as she came on. She perched herself on the edge of his desk and reached out to caress Steven's paralyzed face.

"Hiya, baby," she purred. "Did you miss me?" Sheila was wearing an expensive but tastefully stylish suit with a knee length skirt. Her blouse, though... Steven swallowed nervously. She had three buttons undone, and the way she leaned forward gave him a clear view...

"You did," she said with an impish smile, seeing where his eyes were directed.

Steven swallowed again. Something was wrong. As passionate a lover as Sheila had been, she hated to be ogled. By anyone.

"It's been a while," Steven stammered, stalling for time while he tried to make sense of what was happening.

"Too long," Sheila cooed agreeably.

"W-wh-what brings you back to town?"

Sheila demurely lowered her eyes, then looked up at him from beneath fluttering eyelashes.

"I've come for your zipper," she said slyly.

"M-my z-zipper?" Steven repeated, one hand going instinctively to his crotch.

Sheila giggled. "No, silly, your Gene Zipper."

"Gene Zipper?" Steven said blankly.

Sheila nodded eagerly. "Uh huh. Dr. Lipsky and I have hit a roadblock in the development of our latest project, and we need the Zipper to get past it."

"Latest project?" Steven kicked himself even as the words left his mouth. He must sound like a babbling idiot. If only Sheila wasn't coming on so hard... He shook himself and got control of his glands. Was she really working with Andrew Lipsky?

"I'd need to know the nature of the project before I could let you use it," he said firmly, trying to sound confident. He settled his eyes on hers.

"It's a mind control virus," Sheila said, completely matter-of-factly. Steven blinked. Sheila went on, "Drew and I want to enslave humanity, and we think an engineered virus that alters peoples' brains to make them docile and suggestive is the key to success."

Steven blinked again. His jaw worked silently for a few seconds, while Sheila looked at him expectantly. Finally he found his voice.

"That's insane..."

The warmth that had been in Sheila's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by ice.

"You always did lack vision," she hissed, glaring at him.

Steven glared back. Apparently the idea wasn't the only thing that was insane.

"I'm calling security," Steven said calmly, reaching for the phone. Sheila lashed out, knocking the phone to the floor and grabbing Steven's tie.

"The only thing you're going to do is escort me to the lab where the Zipper is, then out of the building," Sheila said coldly.

"I'll call security the second we're out the door," Steven said, trying to sound defiant. "Give up, Sheila, and let me help you."

"First," Sheila grated, "I don't need 'help'. Second, you call security..." She held up her free hand. The gesture drew his eyes. Steven watched in horror as Sheila's hand burst into green flame. "...and it's your funeral," she said savagely. "Third, from now on, you can call me Shego!"

* * *

"How did it go?" Lipsky asked when Shego returned to the lab, or rather, the lair, as they now called it.

"Just fine," Shego said lightly as she ran a finger along the line of Lipsky's jaw. She jerked her head and he followed the gesture to a pair of henchmen who were carefully moving a large crate.

"Excellent," he said, rubbing his hands in anticipation. Shego, meanwhile, grabbed a paper towel and began wiping the makeup off her face. Healthy pink gave way to a light, unwholesome looking green.

"The only hitch was that my ex didn't want to go along at first, and I had to...persuade him," Shego added.

"Did he take a lot?" Lipsky asked, his tone playfully concerned. Shego's lips twisted in a cruel grin.

"Convincing him to help me was moderately difficult," she admitted. "Getting him to not talk afterward...that was easy."

Lipsky smiled thinly. "The police are looking for Sheila Gogh," he informed her.

"Let them," Shego replied with an indifferent shrug. "She had mostly outlived her usefulness anyway. Now, if you don't mind, I have to go watch my family's name being dragged through the mud," she exclaimed gleefully.

Lipsky watched her walk away. The genetic manipulation that had given Sheila her powers had had a few unexpected side effects. One was the green tint her skin and eyes had acquired. Another was a major personality change. She'd gone from being a temperamental, smart-mouthed ice-queen to being a temperamental, smart-mouthed vixen. It was a mostly pleasant change: it made her sass much easier to take. But it also made maintaining a professional relationship difficult. Oh well. One couldn't have everything.

Lipsky returned to what he was doing. Unlike Sheila...er, Shego, he wanted to keep the name Andrew Lipsky clean, at least a while longer. But there were things that needed doing that would make that difficult, so he was searching the internet for a pseudonym. He was leaning toward one based on a mythical creature, but was having a hard time finding one that he liked. They all sounded rather silly, to be frank, and that wouldn't do at all.

A dragon would have been perfect, the very image of intelligence, power and cruelty. But Dr. Dragon didn't roll easily off the tongue. He scrolled down the page of the website he was at. There was a list, he noticed, of the word 'dragon' in other languages. One, in Swedish, was 'drakken'.

"Dr. Drakken," Lipsky mused. "I like it."


	4. Chapter 4

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_TheFourthman: I have no specific plans for other heroes at the moment._

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_Forlong: If memory serves, yes, it is._

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_Visigoth29527: Your question is answered here._

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_Thanks to: Triaxx2, mattb3671, daywalkr82, campy, GargoyleSama, captainkodak1, Wanderer3, MatthewC, Darkcloud1 and Alan Wilkinson._

Kim ran straight toward the giant warbot Senor Senor Senior was piloting - in the middle of his own house, no less - her eyes narrowed in concentration, her grapple gun in one hand. She had to time this just right...

The middle-aged billionaire lately turned super villain was facing the wrong way, at first. He must have picked her up on the 'bot's sensors, though, for the upper half of the machined pivoted until it, Senor Senior, and the 'bot's weapons were pointed in her direction.

"Ah, my youthful adversary," Senor Senior began, his smooth, cultured tones echoing from speakers on the 'bot and elsewhere around the ornately decorated main hall of his island mansion, "You are brave, I give you that, exposing yourself to my weapons so."

A cold but amused, smile flickered across Kim's face. While Senor Senior yakked instead of firing, Kim closed the range to just where she wanted to be. Her grapple gun, guided by her rock steady aim, sent a three pronged hook sailing up into the ceiling over Senor Senior's head.

"You missed, my dear," the villain taunted.

"Not quite," Kim jeered back.

Senor Senior's expression shifted, ever so slightly. Kim felt the now familiar tightness across the back of her head. Faint grinding and creaking noises reached her ears; the sound, she guessed, of the moving joints and tendons of Senor Senior's trigger fingers.

The warbot was armed with two short-barreled twenty millimeter auto-cannons, one in each arm, and an automatic grenade launcher on each shoulder. Kim shifted the focus of her listening to them. The instant she heard the clicks of the trigger mechanisms, she leapt up and to one side.

Senor Senior gasped in astonishment as the stream of explosive projectiles he'd unleashed passed through empty air to wreak havoc on the polished marble floor of the chamber. His eyes flicked up, following his enemy, his weapons tracking after her. Grenades and cannon shells blasted holes in the wall, obliterating priceless and irreplaceable paintings and statues. The chain of explosions filled the air with flying debris.

Kim's arc brought her to the wall. Gathering her legs she kicked off again, gaining altitude and speed. The high strength line from her grapple gun wrapped around one of the columns supporting the ceiling, bringing her around sharply and increasing her speed even more. Suddenly Senor Senior and his warbot were in sight again, with Kim hurtling down at it. She saw the eyes of her adversary widen in shock and surprise. Then Kim's booted right foot tagged one of the grenade launchers with a ringing clang.

Pressing a lever to cut the line, Kim dropped to the floor and started running away.

"A noble effort, Kim Possible," Senor Senior called after her. "Alas for you, it failed." He took aim at the retreating back, right between the shoulders, and fired.

What Senor Senior had failed to notice was that Kim's kick, which naturally should have done no harm at all to the grenade launcher, had severely distorted the barrel. When the weapon fired, the result was catastrophic. The first grenade wedged in the barrel. With no where to go, the trapped propellant gasses blew the breach out - and triggered the sympathetic detonation of the next grenade in the feed queue, which triggered the next...

Kim heard the flat crack of supersonic projectiles zipping past her, then the sharp booms of the guns that launched them, then the lower rumble of slow moving grenades. Something hit her in the back, hard enough to send her tumbling, then a deafening roar filled the hall. Kim lay flat, arms over her head, as shockwaves and hot gas washed over her and debris flew everywhere.

When things quieted down Kim opened her eyes and looked around. The hall was a mess, but seemed to be in no danger of collapsing. Standing, she brushed herself off and turned to look for Senor Senior. The warbot was still standing, amazingly enough, but its torso was gutted. The cockpit module looked intact, but there was no sign of movement from the occupant. With an ease that still disturbed her, even though it no longer surprised her, Kim ran a few steps and jumped up the fifteen feet to the 'bot's shoulder.

There was an emergency release, and Kim activated it. The canopy opened. Senor Senior was slumped in the seat, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. His heart was beating steadily, though, and his breathing seemed normal. Apparently he wasn't hurt too badly. Unbuckling him, Kim dragged the unconscious man clear. Cradling him in her arms she jumped lightly to the floor.

Once down Kim repositioned her foe to make it seem like she was half carrying, half dragging him, then keyed her Kimmunicator.

"Ron, I've got Senor Senor Senior. How are you and Rufus doing?" she asked.

Ron's grinning face popped up on her screen.

"Boo-yah!" he exclaimed, pumping a fist. As Kim smiled Ron turned his own Kimmunicator so she could see, all the while giving a triumphant voice over commentary.

"The Senors' plan to obliterate Rome with a giant particle beam unless Europe surrendered to them is, in a word, toast!" Ron proclaimed grandly. An image of a huge, twisted pile of smoldering metal confirmed that fact. "And we'll be home in time for the Homecoming Dance."

Kim grinned. Ron, ever irrepressible, was stoked about the dance. As usual the two of them were going together, sophomore Josh Mankey, dreamboat that he was, having not yet deigned to notice fifteen year old freshman Kim Possible (the fact that she was unable to utter so much as word in his presence contributing significantly to that problem).

"What about Junior?" Kim inquired. Ron chuckled.

"Rufus took care of pretty boy," he snickered. "Seems Junior has a thing about small hairless mammals." Another turn of Ron's Kimmunicator showed a tall, muscular man in his early twenties...huddled in a corner, gibbering in terror at the tiny pink form of a naked mole rat.

"Nice work, boys," Kim said with a congratulatory smile. "I'm on my way. See you in a few."

* * *

While the Senors' were being hustled aboard a Spanish Navy helicopter for their ride to the mainland and a Global Justice cleanup crew started sweeping the Senors' private island for evidence, Kim drew Ron aside.

"Would you take a look at my back?" she asked in a hushed voice. "Something hit me there during my fight with Senor Senior. It tickles a bit, like it's bleeding."

Moving behind her Ron immediately saw the spot Kim was talking about.

"Well," he said, keeping his voice low, "There's a hole as big around as a tennis ball in your shirt, and a little dried blood here." Kim felt something wet brush across her skin, probably one of Ron's fingers. "Just a pinprick," Ron declared. Then, "Just a sec, here." Kim felt a tug at the hem of her shirt, one of the long sleeved, midriff baring ones she always wore on missions. Kim had noticed a kind of scratching sensation back there, but her clothes and hair were still so full of bits of debris that she'd hadn't paid it any mind.

When Ron was done doing whatever it was he'd been doing, Kim turned to face him. In his hand was a lump of dull yellow metal and a few fragments of similar material.

"What is that?" she asked.

Ron looked up at her, his eyes full of wonder. Kim felt uneasy, as if she knew she wasn't going to like what he was about to say. Of all people, Ron was the only person who knew the true extent of her remarkable abilities. He was her best friend, after all. She had to have someone to confide in, and for some reason Kim wasn't keen on letting her parents know, even though she was pretty sure they suspected something.

"I think," Ron said hesitantly. "I think," he repeated, with emphasis on the 'think'. Ron swallowed nervously. Rufus, sensing something amiss, crawled out of the pocket he'd been dozing in and scampered up to Ron's shoulder.

"Out with it, Ron," Kim urged, her voice trembling.

"Out with it," Rufus squeaked in agreement. He hated to see his human friends upset.

"I think this is the tungsten penetrater rod from a twenty millimeter armor piercing cannon shell," he said quietly.

"It had to be a ricochet," Kim said firmly. Desperately, "It _had_ to be."

"Maybe," Ron conceded, not sounding convinced.

"Oh, God," Kim choked, a shudder running through her slender frame. As a tear spilled down from one eye Ron slipped his arms around her waist and drew her in to a gentle hug. Kim buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing quietly.

"What's happening to me, Ron?" she asked with pleading eyes when she finally looked up at him.

"I don't know, K.P.," he apologized. She looked at him, her lower lip quivering, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. Ron drew her in again and held her while she wept. "I don't know," he murmured softly. As he comforted Kim, Ron's mind considered the implications. If he remembered the briefing about the warbot correctly, that rod would have been able to punch through an inch of steel armor at a thousand yards. No unarmored human could have survived such an impact, not on the torso anyway. But Kim had. So what did that say about her?

* * *

"What's up with those two?" the second in command of the GJ team asked his boss, gesturing at Kim Possible and her sidekick.

The man in charge glanced over. "Post-combat let down, I'm sure. Happens to everyone."

His underling looked skeptical. "Should I tell them to see the psych boys?" he asked.

"Nah," the boss answered. "They're young, they'll be fine."

* * *

Andrew Lipsky opened his eyes and winced as too bright light stabbed into them. Every muscle in his body ached, and his skin itched like mad. He couldn't muster the will to scratch, though. Keeping his eyes slitted against the glare, Lipsky painfully turned his head from side to side. He could just make out an IV stand to his left. To his right was a blurry shape that might have been one of his henchmen.

"Water," he croaked, his mouth and throat dry as dust.

The shape moved, and a man who was indeed one of his henchmen leaned over him.

"What was that?"

"Water," Lipsky repeated.

"I'll get you some," the man said, turning away. Lipsky soon heard the sound of water pouring into a glass. There was a pause, and an electronic crackle.

"What is it?" Shego's voice demanded testily.

"He's awake," the henchman said.

"I'm on my way." Shego's voice was suddenly all business.

* * *

The cool liquid, sweet as any nectar, seemed to soak instantly into parched tissues as the henchman slowly tipped the glass farther and farther. Lipsky drank eagerly, and soon the glass was empty.

"More," he demanded.

The henchman hesitated. "Shego said..."

"What did I say?" Shego demanded as she strode into the room.

The henchman flinched. "You said not to give him too much water too soon," he explained hastily, holding up the glass.

Shego frowned, in thought rather than anger. "One more won't hurt, but it'll be all for the moment," she said finally. While the henchman scurried to comply, Shego crossed the small chamber. It was cross between a hospital room and a doctor's exam room. Lipsky lay on a bed centered on one wall, surrounded by monitors and other equipment. Various medical instruments were racked nearby, above a cupboard with a countertop and a small sink. Shego selected several of them, placing them in the pockets of the green and black jumpsuit she'd designed, then went to Lipsky's side.

"How do you feel?" she asked pleasantly.

"Terrible," Lipsky murmured. He would have giggled, he didn't have the strength. Shego had slipped into the role of 'friendly, concerned doctor' effortlessly. She had a medical degree, and had done her residency while working on her PhD. She had never gotten her license, nor had a practice, but she knew the drill. That had been immensely helpful when the two of them had gone as far as they could with mice and naked mole rats and been forced to move to human testing. Shego was far better at reassuring the homeless people kidnapped as research subjects that, no, they hadn't fallen into the clutches of a murderous mad scientist, but they _had _contracted a rare disease, and were in a special clinic set up to treat them. Shego had played the role so convincingly that almost all of them had willing gone along with any procedure she suggested, even the final one. It stood to reason, after all, that if you autopsied the ones who died from your experiments to find out what killed them, that you would want to know why the ones who survived had lived. And no matter how reassuring Shego was, Lipsky had yet to meet anyone who would willingly undergo dissection, so...

"That's understandable," Shego said with a smile. She stuck an electronic thermometer in his ear.

"Hmmm, still running a fever," she murmured. She pulled an otoscope from the pocket where she had stowed it, fitted a small black cone to it, and peered into his ears, then up his nostrils. She looked into his eyes with yet another instrument, then at his throat. Generally, she poked and prodded him for a good quarter of an hour, asking numerous questions and noting his answers on a chart.

When she seemed to have finished Lipsky jested, "Well, Dr. Gogh, will I live?"

"I think you will," Shego joked back. Then she became serious again. "I think I'll put you on a light schedule for a week or ten days, to give the changes time to finish up." She gave him a firm look. "That means no lab time, regular meals, and plenty of sleep, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lipsky answered meekly.

"I'll get you some lotion for the itch, but we'll hold off on painkillers, if you can tolerate it. They might interfere with the regeneration process your brain is undergoing."

Lipsky nodded. Unlike Shego, who craved physical power, Lipsky had opted to augment his mental acuity. "I want to be the greatest intellect on the planet," was how he'd put.

Shego, in that maddening way of hers, had pointed to the numerous citations and prize certificates on his walls, as well as the magazine covers and newspaper articles. "A lot of people already think you are," she'd said.

"I want it to be an undisputed matter of fact, not an opinion held by a mere majority."

"Did it work?" Shego's voice brought Lipsky back to reality. He pondered the matter.

"I don't know," he said finally. "It's kind of hard to gather my thoughts."

"Give it time," Shego suggested. "In the meantime, we'll keep an eye out for other side effects." She clamped her hand over her mouth instantly, but still too late.

"Other side effects?" Lipsky half asked, half demanded.

Shego took a breath, glanced about nervously, then opened a drawer and pulled out a hand mirror. She held it out so Lipsky could see his face.

"Oh my!" he exclaimed softly. "Oh my." He'd turned blue. And not a nice blue, like ultramarine or azure. A dead, corpse-like blue.

"Oh my," he repeated.


	5. Chapter 5

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_Thanks to: MatthewC, scottgrubb, Triaxx2, campy, Wanderer3, eckles, Cold-Chaos, Mountain King, Robert Teague, daywalkr82 and mattb3671._

"_More_ meatloaf, Ron?" Kim asked incredulously, as Ron took a third helping from the platter in the center of the Possible's dining room table.

Ron turned as he settled the portion on his plate. "Uh, yeah," he mocked playfully. "Not only is your Mom's meatloaf _mue bueno_," Ron proclaimed, "I'm a growing boy."

Kim's eyes flicked to her mother, who was smiling at the compliment, then back to Ron, who was already raising a piece to his mouth.

"Are you at least going to save room for dessert?" she asked doubtfully.

Ron gave her a wounded look.

"I always save room for dessert," he answered, as if hurt that she would doubt him.

Kim's lips quirked into a fond grin. Ron was definitely growing. Shorter than her since before puberty, he'd lately begun a growth spurt that had him threatening to draw even with, if not surpass her. Kim let the grin spread into a smile, then resumed picking at her own food. She was still working on her first helping, not having much of an appetite.

"So," Ron asked, still chewing, "Are we on for tomorrow night, or did 'something else' come up?"

Kim frowned at him, as much for talking with his mouth full as for mentioning her love life...such as it was. She sighed. "Yes, we're on," she answered. At her parents' inquisitive looks Kim explained, her cheeks heating, "I was going to ask Josh if he wanted to go to the movies." She sighed again, dramatically. "But, as usual, I couldn't form a coherent sentence in his presence."

Kim's mom started to say something comforting and reassuring, but was cut off by Jim and Tim chanting, "Kim's got a boy-friend, Kim's got a boy-friend."

Kim's mom frowned, Kim herself glared, and Kim's dad cleared his throat.

"Be that as it may," he said uncomfortably, before turning to Kim with an apologetic look. "I'm afraid you're going to have to give Ronald a rain-check, Kimmie. Tomorrow is family game night."

"I know, Dad," Kim said, "But I was hoping I could flake."

"Your cousin Larry is really looking forward to you coming over," Mr. Dr. Possible said pointedly, and Kim wilted.

"June," Mrs. Dr. Possible said, referring to her sister, "says Larry never has friends over."

"That's because Larry is the biggest dweeb on the planet," Jim groused.

"Now, Jim," Mr. Dr. Possible said, "Don't mock family."

Tin snickered. "Maybe he isn't even of this world. Maybe he comes from some far off planet of dweebs!"

Mr. Dr. Possible's expression went from stern, in a fatherly sort of way, to downright icy. Jim and Tim gulped and looked to their mother for moral support, only to find her scowling at them as well.

"Sorry," them mumbled in unison.

Kim and Ron were sitting in silence. A glance at Ron showed Kim that he looked as uncomfortable as she felt. Her father rarely showed signs of temper.

Mr. Dr. Possible took a deep breath and let it out. "Moving on," he began, "We'll be leaving..."

"Beep-beep-bee-deep!"

With a silent prayer of thanks Kim snagged her Kimmunicator.

"What's the sitch, Wade?"

"Sorry to call during dinner," Wade apologized, "But we got a hit on the site. Seems there's been a break-in at Elmer Medical Equipment in Upperton."

Kim looked at her parents, who nodded, and at Ron, who looked mournfully at the as-yet uneaten peach pie Mrs. Dr. Possible had baked for desert.

"I'll save you a slice, Ron," Mrs. Dr. Possible promised.

"Boo-yah! Let's ride, K.P.!" Ron exclaimed.

* * *

Ron's scooter zipped along the highway that led into the heart of the Upperton commercial district. He was driving, with Kim sitting behind him, her hands on his hips.

"I so can't wait until we can get a car," Ron opined as he braked to a halt at a red light.

Kim nodded in agreement. At present Ron's scooter was adequate, at least for in-town missions. It was an older model, and kind of beat-up looking, but it ran okay, and had a top speed of almost forty miles per hour. But the two of them were agreed that when they turned sixteen (and one or more of them got their drivers license) Kim would tap into the trust fund her parents had set up to hold and manage the reward money (such as there was) that came their way from missions, and buy a better means of transportation. Right now she and Ron were leaning toward a custom van. A van would give them enough room for all their equipment, yet remain fairly inconspicuous. There would still be the matter of getting it modified to suit their needs, but Kim was sure she could cash in a few favors to achieve the desired results. It was amazing, really, what saving a guy's collection of custom hot rods from a gang of thieves could get you.

All that lay in the future, though.

"Have to wait until fall, Ron," Kim said wistfully, "and sophomore year."

Ron didn't answer. The light turned green, and he took out his frustration on the scooter's throttle.

* * *

The EME building looked deserted. Well, no, not really. The parking lot was illuminated but was all but empty. Lights mounted on the outside walls of the building kept most of the night's darkness at bay. Here and there a light burned inside, revealing a deserted corridor or unoccupied office. There was no sign of human activity, though, and Team Possible soon discovered why. There was a guard post at the main gate into the fenced in compound, but the man Kim and Ron found inside was out cold and they hadn't been able to awaken him.

Gaining access to the building, Kim clipped her Kimmunicator to her belt and donned a wireless headset with a voice activated microphone. Ron followed suit. Now they could talk to each other, and Wade, while leaving their hands free for other work. A quick inventory of their other equipment (knockout gas disguised as lip gloss, a lipstick that dispensed a constrictive polymer, another that housed a small but powerful laser, acidic nail polish, and similar items) and they were on their way, Kim in front, Ron bringing up the rear.

"Turn right at the next hallway," Wade instructed quietly. He was monitoring their progress via their Kimmunicators, guiding them toward their destination. Kim and Ron slowed. The hall they were following was lit only by the faint glow of the occasional emergency exit sign, and was swathed in shadow. They didn't want to miss their turn.

Kim stopped and held up a hand, signaling Ron to do the same. She peered ahead, eyes narrowing. Kim had recently discovered that, if she concentrated, she could see fairly well in all but absolute blackness. She was also pretty sure she could see into the near-infrared portion of the spectrum. What else could explain the ghostly, but rapidly intensifying glow that seemed to emerge from the wall a ways down the hall? She could also make out the sound of footfalls, hear the whisper of quiet breathing, and the thumping of two hearts. Turning to Ron, who was watching her closely, Kim gestured down the hall, balled her hand into a fist, then held up two fingers.

Ron nodded. Two people coming. Kim signaled for him to follow and they set off again, moving silently.

Two hulking figures emerged from the side hall and turned toward them.

"Hey!" one of them exclaimed at the sight of the two teens.

"Hello, boys," Kim said sweetly. "Why don't you do yourselves a favor and surrender?"

The henchmen (for that was what they were: who else would wear a full body spandex jumpsuit with built in hood and boots?) answered by brandishing short staves tipped at each end with silvery balls. The balls began to crackle with energy, and the henchmen attacked.

One took a swing at Ron but hit empty air. Ron had ducked into a crouch, and proceeded to sweep the henchman's legs out from under him. The man went down with a heavy thud. Snatching up the man's weapon, Ron cold-cocked him with it. The henchman stayed down.

For her part, Kim sidestepped the attack aimed at her and caught hold of the shaft of her enemy's stave. Kim tugged gently. The man had a good grip. She felt him tug back, trying, perhaps, to drag her off her feet. She tugged again, hard. With a yelp the man flew forward, his jaw meeting Kim's fist. The henchman collapsed in a heap.

After trussing up the henchmen Kim and Ron moved on. Soon Kim became aware of voices, a half dozen or so. Most were male, but she heard a woman as well, who seemed to be in charge, if the orders she was barking were any sign.

The hallway ended in a set of double doors that opened into a large, darkened chamber. The doors were open and unguarded, probably because the henchmen who were supposed to be handling that detail were tied up at the moment. Kim and Ron slipped inside. At a nod from Kim, Ron flipped on the lights.

"Taking other people's stuff without asking is called 'stealing'," Kim announced in a loud voice. "Shame on you!"

All activity ceased as the room's occupants turned toward the source of the voice.

There was a brief silence as the occupants appraised the new arrivals.

"It's just a couple of kids!" a henchman exclaimed.

Kim's and Ron's eyes, though, were on the figure in the center of the group, a voluptuous woman with long, dark hair in a very tight fitting green and black jumpsuit which she wore, Kim noted critically, unzipped halfway to her navel.

"Well, well," the woman said with a sarcastic smile. "If it isn't the famous Kim Possible and her..." she paused, smile widening. "...drooling sidekick," she finished with a snort.

Kim glanced at Ron. His eyes were fixed on the mystery woman's torso, specifically that part of it not covered by her outfit. Kim jabbed him in the ribs.

"Ron! Focus!" she hissed.

Ron shook himself, blushing, while the woman in green chuckled.

"Like what you see, handsome?" she purred, running a hand suggestively down her side.

Ron made a gurgling noise, and Kim jabbed him again. "Ron, do NOT unspool the drool."

Ron swallowed, then steeled himself. The mystery tramp pouted, in disappointment it seemed, then turned to the henchmen and snapped, "Finish loading the loot. I'll handle these two!"

"You heard Shego," a henchman bellowed. He and his fellows went about their work while Shego advanced.

"Aren't you going to zip up, lady?" Kim asked, her voice dripping sarcasm. "Something might get loose otherwise."

"Meh," Shego shrugged. "If so, it'll help keep your sidekick distracted. Not that I need the help, of course," she added, moving her arms out to her sides and curling her fingers into fists. There was a whooshing sound, and Shego's fists exploded into flames.

"I can heat things up just fine on my own!" Shego snarled, and launched a ball of green fire at Kim's head.

"Ron!" Kim snapped, dodging the fireball, "You stop the goons, I'll handle little Miss Firebug here!"

"I'm on it, K.P!" Ron cried, dodging past the two women.

Kim backed slowly away from Shego, parrying or dodging the green clad woman's attacks, trying to stay out of the way of her blazing hands and get her measure at the same time. However Shego was, she was a skilled martial artist, at least in Kim's admittedly unskilled estimation. She was fast, too, and strong. Her flame power, or whatever it was, was more than just ordinary fire as well. The balls Shego launched cratered the cement walls of the room and blew electronic components to bits.

Ron wasn't sure what he was going to do about stopping Shego's henchmen. What appeared to be the last of the items they had stolen was already rising toward a gaping hole in the roof and the odd looking aircraft parked atop the building. Some of the henchmen were already rigging ascent lines in preparation for their own departure.

"Oh, man, what am I..." Ron was cut off by a large hand grabbing his shoulder and dragging him around. An evilly grinning henchman loomed over him.

"Gotcha, you little yearrgh!" The man's triumphant remark turned into a howl of pain as the sharp teeth of a naked mole rat dug into his hand.

"Nice one, Rufus!" Ron cheered.

"Ta da!" Rufus chirped.

The henchman, clutching his hand, started toward Ron again. "I'm gonna tear-"

"Jump kick!" Ron declared, bouncing straight up and tagging the henchman's jaw with the steel reinforced toe of his right boot. The henchman went glassy eyed and slumped to the floor.

The sound of engines starting drew Ron's eyes upward. The aircraft had two visible engines, both tilted down, like it was a hovercraft or something. Ron threw a grin at the naked mole rat on his shoulder and said, "Rufus, I have an idea!"

Reaching into a pouch on his belt Ron snagged the canister of constrictive plastic. A quick twist activated it, then Ron threw it toward one of the engines. The golden cylinder flashed as it flew, spinning end over end, until it passed over the engine, and was sucked down into it. There was a horrible banging noise, then the engine stopped, filled to overflowing with pink goo.

Shego, meanwhile, was getting tired. So far Kim Possible had evaded all of her attacks. Just how the redheaded cheerleader had managed that, Shego couldn't guess. There was no time to wonder about it anyway. In desperation Shego threw a fireball, not at Kim, but at a pillar behind her. Kim, thinking Shego had simply missed, didn't realize that the pillar supported an overhead storage area until it came crashing down, burying her under an avalanche of crates and boxes.

Shego shot a line toward the ceiling and was gone a moment later.

"Let's get out of here!" she shouted, clambering into the hovercraft.

"No dice!" the pilot replied. "We lost an engine! We're too heavy to take off!"

Even as Shego snarled in frustration another henchman announced, "Police choppers coming in, and S.W.A.T. teams are on their way!"

"Forget the loot, then," Shego ordered, "Just get us out of here!"

The pilot nodded and pushed a button. Clamps released, freeing the passenger section of the hovercraft from the cargo portion. Engines screaming, the now much smaller and lighter vehicle made its escape.

Ron stared after the now vanished hovercraft for a few moments, then whirled, his eyes falling on the rubble of the collapsed storage area.

"K.P!" he called, "Are you ok?"

His answer came in the form of a drawn out grunt. One of the crates, a big one, heaved up and fell over as Kim pushed herself to her feet.

"Nothing hurt but my pride," Kim assured him. "What about our new friends?"

Ron looked sheepish. "They had to abandon their ill-gotten gains, but they got away," he confessed.

"For now," Kim agreed. "But for some reason I doubt we've seen the last of this 'Shego' person."

* * *

"You lost to a cheerleader?" Lipsky asked, his tone a mixture of anger and incredulity.

Shego fixed him with an icy glare. "Don't start on me, Drew," she warned.

"We," Lipsky began. "You and I," he corrected. "Sheila, we _need_ that equipment."

"I know!" Shego shouted. Crossing her arms, Shego scowled. Her anger at having to scrub the mission had been tempered, somewhat, by the thought that she'd taken Kim Possible out of the picture, temporarily at least, maybe permanently. That belief had been dashed almost as soon as she got back to the lair, where an irritated Dr. Lipsky had shown her a recording of the red headed pain-in-the-backside talking to reporters, apparently none the worse for wear. How she had managed that, Shego didn't know. Probably she just got lucky. "I underestimated her," Shego said finally. When Lipsky said nothing in reply, Shego elaborated. "Oh, I knew there was a chance Team Possible would show up, but I didn't think they'd be as good as they were. The sidekick isn't the buffoon his reputation makes him out to be, and Possible is _fast_. The fastest person I've ever gone against in a fight."

"So what you're saying is..?" Lipsky probed.

Shego grinned a hard, cruel grin. "Next time we meet - and there will be a next time - I'll be ready for both of them."


	6. Chapter 6

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_Visigoth29527: I got that bit from the episode 'Monkey Fist Strikes'. I tweaked it a bit, but the scene basically plays out the same way, which I thought was a neat coincidence._

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_MatthewC: Your prediction is addressed here, hopefully to your satisfaction._

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_Thanks to: campy, GargoyleSama, Alan Wilkinson, daywalkr82, Triaxx2, ron-sama, The Fourthman, Cold-Chaos, I should be Studying, Spyke the Hedgehog, Wanderer3, and Salimoo._

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_Now for a shameless plug/shout out: mattb3671. I was massively inspired by his take on the mystical monkey power. If you haven't read his story 'The Biggest Mission Ever' I suggest you do so. It is really, really good._

"Mom, Daddy," Kim began hesitantly. She was sitting on the couch in the living room of the only home she'd ever known. Her parents were sitting on an other couch, facing her, their eyes and faces suddenly troubled, as if they knew what was coming.

The only man Kim had ever called father smile reassuringly and said, "What's bothering you, Kimmie-cub?" The relaxed facade didn't fool Kim, not completely any way. She heard the sudden up-tick in the tempo of his heartbeat. As Kim watched, her mother's hand found it's way onto her father's, clasping it gently.

When she hesitated again something similar happened to Kim. A familiar hand found hers, fingers lacing, the touch calming. Kim turned briefly and sent a thankful smile at Ron, who was present at her request for this very reason - he was the one who gave her the courage to 'do anything'.

'Anything,' Kim mused as she turned back to her parents, 'like ask the question that's been rolling around in my head for so long.' Kim suppressed a shudder. A wise man had once said, "Don't ask questions you'd rather not know the answers to." Now she was about to do what was probably the scariest thing she'd ever attempted, and possibly turn her world upside down in the process. Kim took a deep breath.

"Who am I?" she asked.

Her parents glanced at each other before her father answered.

"You're Kim Possible, our daughter," he said calmly.

"The way your heart started racing when I asked suggests there's more to it than that, Daddy," Kim said, a hint of accusation in her voice. "And before you say anything, I know it sped up, because I can hear it."

Her parents' faces became unreadable. Surprise, disbelief, incredulity, even fear. Kim thought she saw traces of all those emotions, and more.

"And my hearing isn't the only thing that's different about me," Kim plowed on. "Ron?"

"Kim and I snuck into the school last night and did some research in the weight room," Ron announced.

"And what did you find out?" Mr. Dr. Possible asked, the calm in his voice clearly feigned now.

"We started with the bench press," Ron expounded. "The biggest bar the school has will hold eleven plates on each end. Kim did ten repetitions on that with no effort at all."

"You're being dramatic, Ronald," Mr. Dr. Possible accused. "How much weight are we talking about?"

"Just over a thousand pounds," Ron stated flatly. Kim's father blinked, while her mother gasped.

"Then," Ron continued, "Kim took the same set-up and tried barbell curls." Ron mimed lifting the bar with both hands and curling it to his chest. "Again, ten reps, no trouble."

"So then Ron had me do some one handed curls," Kim weighed in. "The hardest part about that was keeping the bar balanced."

"Although Kim did admit that it was 'a little heavy'," Ron added.

Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Possible were sitting frozen in place. Ron threw another straw on the camel's back.

"I estimate Kim's maximum bench at around eight thousand pounds, minimum."

"That's four tons, Daddy, and I don't even exercise," Kim said softly. "How can I do that? How can anyone do that?"

Kim's parents looked at each other. An unspoken conversation passed between them, before they nodded at each other and turned back to Kim.

"Your mother and I have spent a lot of time talking about how we were going to handle this day, if and when it finally came," Mr. Dr. Possible said, smiling sadly. "I guess the best way is to just take the plunge." He paused, cleared his throat, and looked Kim right in the eye.

"Kimmie, you aren't our natural born daughter," he said simply.

Despite the fact that she'd been sort of expecting to hear that, the admission still stunned her.

"But I have a birth certificate," she protested feebly.

"Only because the circumstances in which we found you allowed us to pass you off as our own," Kim's mother explained.

Kim's mind whirled as she tried to understand what had just been said. In some desperation to put her thoughts in order Kim latched onto a part of what her mother had said.

"Wait, wait, you _found_ me?" Kim sputtered. "You _found_ me at a campsite at Lake Middleton?" Then, "I was _abandoned_?"

Kim's mother crossed to where her daughter sat and knelt down in front of her, reaching out to take Kim's free hand.

"Kim," Patricia said soothingly, "Your parents, your biological parents, they didn't abandon you. They sent you here to save your life from a disaster."

"They sent me to Middleton?" Kim asked, her voice quavering, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Kim saw her father shake his head.

"They sent you to Earth, Kim," he said.

* * *

Kim leaned heavily on Ron, glad once again for his presence. She was sure her parents would have supported her if Ron wasn't around, but to be honest, she wasn't exactly sure how she felt about her parents right at the moment. They were in the basement, having been led there by her father after his startling proclamation. He'd said there was something Kim needed to see down here, and Kim found herself wondering, a bit numbly, where it was hidden. After all she and Ron, and later she and her brothers, had explored every nook and cranny of the basement. Hadn't they?

Apparently not, for her father walked up to a completely solid wall and began touching it in various places.

"I put this room in after we found you, Kim, because I couldn't very well keep _this_ in the garage," her father said.

A large section of the wall sank back, then split in two down the middle, the halves sliding to either side. Behind the false wall was a large, brightly lit room. Sitting square in the middle of it was a black, arrow head shaped...thing...standing on three thin legs. Mr. Dr. Possible walked up to it and touched some symbols etched into the thing's side. There was a whirring sound, and a panel opened on the upper surface. Almost against her will Kim stepped forward. A small compartment, barely the size of a laundry basket, lined with blankets, filled her eyes. Kim's mother joined her and gestured at the compartment.

"That is were we found you, Kim," was all she said.

Kim swayed slightly, unable for the moment to form a coherent thought, let alone speak. She felt Ron's hands tighten as he steadied her.

"There will be a blue light," James warned as he fiddled with more symbols. "It will paralyze you, but only for a few seconds. I think it's some sort of brain scanner."

A second, smaller panel opened and a silvery object rose up out of it. A blue light filled the room, overriding the cold white of the fluorescents. As Kim's father had warned, she found herself unable to move. Oddly, though, the blue light was comforting. Then, an image sprang into existence.

A man. Tall, distinguished looking, with thoughtful if somewhat troubled blue eyes and hair who's color matched Kim's exactly. A woman appeared beside him, and Kim saw her own face and eyes looking back at her.

"I am Jor-el, your father," the man said. Or seemed to. Kim thought she heard his voice inside her mind. Certainly, when his lips moved they didn't match the words she was hearing.

"And I am your mother, Lara," the woman joined in.

The man reached out, ghostly fingers brushing at Kim's face.

"Kara," he said, very softly, his eyes glistening. "Kara, my daughter," Jor-el went on, his voice breaking slightly. "You are the last survivor of the planet Krypton. By the time you see this recording, we," he said, gesturing at Lara, "will have been dead for many years, along with the rest of our people." A new image appeared, of a planet swathed in oceans and wreathed in clouds, whose continents were clearly not those of Earth.

"Behold the world of your birth, the planet Krypton," Jor-el said. "And its end." The image changed. Ribbons of fire became visible on the surface. The image shrank, as if the camera were moving rapidly away. More and more of the planet was covered with fire and then...

...it exploded.

The image of the cataclysm faded, and Jor-el spoke again.

"Within the memory systems of this ship are stored the accumulated knowledge of Krypton: our culture, our history, our science. Everything we knew."

Lara took up, "We now bequeath it to you, Kara. You are our legacy. We, and Krypton, will live on in you. Don't forget us." Lara's voice took on an edge of quiet desperation. "Don't let the universe forget us, that we existed, that we mattered." Jor-el laid a hand on Lara's shoulder and she fell silent.

"Kara," Jor-el said after a brief silence, his voice once more heavy with emotion, "your mother and I loved you very much. On Earth, as it would have been on Krypton, I know you are destined for greatness. Make us proud, last child of the House of El."

The image faded.

Tears were streaming down Kim's face. Her mother's too, though Kim didn't notice. Her fathers eyes were brimming.

Kim turned, twisting out of Ron's grasp. She bolted out of the room and up the stairs.

"Kim!" Ron and her father exclaimed as one, each moving to follow her.

Patricia stopped them with a look.

"Let her go," she said. "Kim needs to think this over. Give her the time and space to do it."

* * *

Ron climbed the hill behind the Possible home. It had been several hours since Kim had run off. For Ron the wait had not been easy. He was worried about his friend, and had spent the beginning of his wait pacing nervously. That had finally gotten on Mrs. Dr. Possible's nerves. Almost out of desperation, Ron had then tried meditating to pass the time. He'd learned the technique at the Yamanouchi School in Japan, where he had recently spent a short but very memorable time learning the ways of the ninja and how to control and use the mystical monkey power he'd been exposed to in the home of crack-pot archeologist Lord Monte Fiske. To be honest, he hadn't learned all that much, just the very basics, really.

'I really need to go back there,' he'd told himself.

Sitting cross legged on the floor the living room he'd tried to open himself to the power. Soon, sooner than he expected, he could feel it flowing into and through him. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, Ron found himself zooming toward the place he half expected Kim to be, the old tree house they had built when they were kids. Whenever Kim needed to be alone, to think, she would go there. She jokingly referred to it as her Fortress of Solitude. Sure enough, she was there. At least he was seeing her there. But was his vision real, or a figment of his imagination. Ron didn't know for sure, but it _felt_ real, felt _right_, somehow. He decided to trust the vision. Knowing that Kim hadn't gone far had eased whatever concern Ron had felt. So he had waited, calmly and patiently.

Until the time was right.

When he had gotten up and headed for the door Kim's mom had tried to stop him, but he'd stopped her.

"It's time," was all he'd said, but Mrs. Dr. P. had stepped out of his way.

* * *

At the foot of the tree he paused, looking up.

"Mind if I come in?" he called.

"Go away," Kim's voice commanded.

"Sweet, I'm coming up,' Ron answered cheerfully, starting to climb.

He found Kim glaring at him with red rimmed eyes.

"Go away, Ron," she growled. "I want to be alone."

"Correction," Ron said, "You wanted to be alone, and I left you alone. Now you want to not be alone, so here I am."

Kim blinked at him. "Whatever," she finally muttered and turned away from him.

Ron sat down next to her. He didn't say anything, just sat there. The silence went on and on until Kim couldn't stand it any more.

"Do you think it's true?" she asked quietly.

"I know it's true," Ron answered promptly.

"How?" Kim demanded.

"You know I was exposed to mystical monkey power, right?"

Kim nodded, thinking back to their encounter with Lord Monte Fiske.

"Remember when I went to Japan on that student exchange?"

"Yeah," Kim said slowly.

"Well, I was sworn to secrecy, so I can't go into detail, but I can tell you that the school I went to is run by a guy who knows about stuff like that, and who taught me a little about using it."

"You seriously expect me to believe..." Kim began.

Ron cut her off by clearing his throat and nodding at something across the small room. Kim's eyes followed the gesture to an old hair brush of hers lying on a shelf. Ron extended his hand. His brow furrowed in concentration.

The hairbrush jiggled, then started sliding toward the edge of the shelf. It clattered when it hit the floor, but it kept moving toward Ron until it slid into his waiting hand.

Kim looked at him wide eyed.

"I can also sense people, when I'm meditating," Ron told her, "Kind of taste their life force, I suppose. Everyone I've met since then has had pretty much the same 'flavor'..."

"...except for me," Kim finished. Ron nodded.

"Humans are, say, vanilla," Ron proposed, "With little variations added to give each individual a taste of their own."

"So what 'flavor' am I?" Kim asked.

Ron's eyes sparkled merrily. "How about...Rocky Road?" he grinned.

Kim glared again. "Rocky Road? And just what is that supposed..." She trailed off, her eyes widening.

"You tricked me," she accused, "Into forgetting that I was feeling sorry for myself."

Ron gave her a smug look.

"I'm a sidekick," he bragged. "Distractions are what I do."

Kim giggled in spite of herself. Ron saw her relax, and slipped an arm around her shoulders. Kim relaxed even more, leaning against him.

"You really don't mind that I'm an alien?" she asked.

"Why should I mind? I've known you for what, twelve years now? You didn't suddenly become a different person, K.P., you just found out that you were adopted, that's all. Besides," he added, grinning again, "How many guys can say their best friend is from another planet?"

"Not even you can," Kim said seriously. "Not where anyone else can hear it, anyway."

Ron nodded. "Understood," he said gravely.

"At least," Kim added, relenting slightly, "not until I figure out how I feel about all of this."

* * *

Ron stepped out the front door of the Possible home. It was late, and he had to get home. Kim had come back with him, feeling a little awkward toward her parents but resolved to start sorting things out. James and Patricia had told her the whole story of Patricia's fake pregnancy and the turmoil it had caused in their marriage, and how Kim's unexpected arrival had seemed like a gift from heaven to them. That had been a stunner in its own right, but small compared to Kim's true origin. And she was taking it fairly well, once she'd had a little time to think about. But then, Kim had always been resilient, emotionally. Ron had no doubts that she was going to be fine.

* * *

"That's it," Lipsky said glumly. "The mind control virus is going on the back burner."

Shego nodded reluctantly. She hated to give up on anything, but there was no more avoiding the fact that it would be years, maybe decades, before they'd be able to produce a viable weapon. Every attempt so far had achieved mind control, but only with disastrous side effects, like sterility, or greatly diminished intellect, or other equally devastating consequences.

"So where do we go from here?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Lipsky admitted. "I do know, though, that I'm through putting all my eggs in one basket. From now on, multiple lines of attack, as it were."

"So, then," Shego probed. "What's our overall goal?"

"Take over the world," Lipsky answered instantly. No change there.

"And how are we going to do that?" Shego asked.

"If subtlety is out, brute force will have to do the job," Lipsky answered. "Right now it looks like an army of clones, or maybe killer robots, is our best bet."

"Eeew, clones," Shego shuddered. "Messy. Expensive. And long term, too much so, don't you think?"

"It's just an idea we should look at, Shego. And there are always the robots."

"Yeah, but there's also the little fact that neither of us is a robotics expert," Shego pointed out.

"If we can't master the craft, we can always outsource, unless you have a better idea," Lipsky said huffily.

"Well, I don't know if it's better, but I did see an article in _Villain's Digest _that might interest you," Shego said kittenishly, which made Lipsky swallow nervously. She produced a magazine, already opened to the article in question. Lipsky began scanning the page.

"Hmmm, combine the best aspects of clones and robots, at a fraction of the cost? Totally obedient yet convincingly lifelike?" Lipsky's voice rose with excitement as he read. "Synthodrones!" he exclaimed. "This could be our answer Shego!" Lipsky began pacing to and fro as he considered the possibilities. Then he noticed how Shego was looking at him. Her eyes were almost feverish. She licked her lips suggestively, and her bosom was heaving. He had forgotten, again, how much seeing him get excited about something turned her on. One hand went to the zipper on the front of her jumpsuit. Lipsky looked around, slightly panicked. His desk was between him and the door to his office, and the tranquillizer gun was locked in one of the bottom drawers.

A metallic rasping sound drew his eyes back to Shego. The slider of her zipper was just below her breasts, which were moving in a very interesting way as the jumpsuit that held them in came undone...

"Oh boy," Lipsky squeaked.

Shego attacked.


	7. Chapter 7

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_Triaxx2: I remember that show, though I don't think I watched more than a few episodes of it._

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_Visigoth29527: Sequels? Anything is possible._

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_Thanks to: campy, GargoyleSama, mattb3671, Spyke the Hedgehog, daywalkr82, eckles, Darkcloud1, Wanderer3, ron-sama, Alan Wilkinson, Lydia King, lady-of-tormentdeath, and The Fourthman._

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_Recommended reading: _Not Quite Heroes_, by MatthewC. An extremely interesting look at Drakken, Shego and the dynamics of their relationship, and a good lesson in the art of characterization._

Kim was leaning against a wall, trying to look and sound relaxed, at least more so than she felt. Standing a very short distance away was none other than Josh Mankey, eleventh grade dreamboat and longtime object of Kim's desire. A few weeks earlier, after two years of pining, Kim had finally worked up the nerve to talk to him, and managed to get a date out of it. Two more dates had followed and today, right now, the two of them were making arrangements for a fourth.

Despite the familiarity that was developing between them, Kim still felt nervous and awkward around Josh. If he noticed, he gave no sign, for which Kim was thankful.

"So, Kim," Josh said in that soft, smooth voice of his, the one that sent shivers down Kim's spine every time she heard it. "How about, instead of grabbing a bite and taking in a movie, we have my Mom make up a picnic dinner and drive up to Lake Middleton?"

Kim fought to keep from blinking. Lake Middleton? Josh was inviting her to join him for a trip to one of the Tri-City Area's most popular make-out spots? Quite suddenly her heart began to pound, and she felt her cheeks heat.

"Wow. Uh, I," she stammered, hating herself for it, "uh, sure! That sounds great, Josh. When, uh..." Kim trailed off as a familiar tightness made itself felt at the back of her head. Running footsteps rang in her ears. She knew those feet, and in the back of her mind wondered what could be so urgent.

Ron came around a nearby corner, sprinting almost, and slid to a stop in front of Kim and Josh.

"K.P!" he exclaimed breathlessly.

"What is it, Ron?" came out a bit more harshly than Kim intended, but Ron didn't seem to notice.

"Wade said you left your Kimmunicator in your locker," Ron gasped.

"Yeah, because I didn't want to be interrupted," Kim said, her eyes flicking meaningfully toward Josh.

Ron blinked, looked back and forth between Kim and Josh. His eyes widened slightly. "Oh, right, I get it," he said finally.

Kim rolled her eyes in frustration.

"Hey, Stoppable," Mankey said casually. His expression and tone of voice suggested that he was amused by what was going on, but not in a bad way.

"Mankey," Ron acknowledged politely.

"Anyway," Kim said, "My leaving my Kimmunicator in my locker is an issue why?"

Ron held up his own Kimmunicator and keyed it. Wade's face popped up on the screen.

"Because Shego just broke into a corporate lab in California," Wade explained without preamble, "And that Drakken person she works for seems to be with her."

Kim turned to Josh. "I have to take this," she said apologetically.

"No big," Josh said with an easy, understanding smile. "Call me later," he added.

"I will," Kim blushed. Then turning to the business at hand, "Wade, how about a ride?"

* * *

"What is it they make here anyway?" Kim asked, her voice a whisper, as she and Ron moved along a corridor. The sensitive microphone of her headset picked up every word, though, and Wade heard her just fine.

"They don't make anything, per se," Wade answered. "This is a research facility. The scientists who work here experiment with new kinds and ways of making plastic."

"What do Shego and Drakken want with experimental plastics?" Ron asked, frowning in thought. "All their earlier robberies were of medical equipment."

Wade shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"We'll just have to ask them," Kim resolved. She moved off, Ron following closely. Eventually she halted.

"Henchmen coming," she warned, indicating a set of double doors ahead. Ron nodded silently. He'd long since stopped asking how she knew these things: if it wasn't her ears it was her eyes.

"Wish I had x-ray vision," he muttered. He'd been immensely jealous when Kim had revealed her most recently discovered ability (she didn't like the term 'power').

"Only so you could peek into the girls locker room," Kim whispered, repeating what she'd said the first time Ron had expressed his desire.

"You keep saying that like it's bad," Ron retorted. "Besides, it's not like you haven't done the same thing."

"I so have not," Kim denied firmly. At Ron's steady gaze she grinned slightly. "Well, maybe once or twice," she admitted. "But I know it's rude, so I stopped doing it."

Ron's expression became one of amused doubtfulness, but before he could say anything else, the doors rattled and began to open. Quickly stepping to either side of the hallway, Kim and Ron dropped into battle stances. Kim didn't really need to. It was more a habit than a necessity: unless the henchmen were armed with something on the order of a bazooka, she was in little danger. For his part, Ron produced a police truncheon. Kim was a little surprised at how expertly he wielded it, but decided that she shouldn't have been. He'd spent six more weeks at Yamanouchi in the summer, working on his mastery of the mystical monkey power and his martial arts skills. Apparently he'd learned a lot. He was far more confident, at any rate. Kim hid a smile. Mission confidence was only one aspect of Ron that had changed. He wasn't exactly a 'ladies man' or a 'babe magnet', but he'd managed to get a few dates since school had started, and Kim was almost certain it was because of someone he'd met in Japan. Just who that someone was, Kim didn't know. She hadn't pressed for details, and Ron hadn't offered any. Part of her was thrilled for him, but an other part was admittedly jealous. She had long regarded Ron as hers, even if he wasn't boyfriend material, and the idea of his being interested in another girl was...painful. But Kim had decided she was just being silly, and put those thoughts be hind her. Now...

"Space out much?" Ron jibed as he cracked his truncheon across the jaw of one of the two henchmen who had come through the doors. Kim blinked, shook herself, then slammed a balled fist into the face of the second. He joined his partner on the floor.

"Sorry," Kim apologized. "I went off on a tangent."

Ron's brief ire vanished instantly, a goofy grin lighting his face.

"No big," he said. "It's not like we lost or anything."

* * *

Shego cast a brief glance at Dr. Lipsky...er, Dr. Drakken as he supervised the loading of drums of chemicals and various bits of computer hardware onto the hover car. Drakken hadn't been satisfied with the synthodrones they'd created using Jack Hench's formula, and was researching various improvements. That was why they were in California, to steal some advanced mimetic polymer to add to the mix. They probably could have gotten a hold of the stuff legally without much effort: Andrew Lipsky's reputation remained as yet untarnished, and Shego couldn't imagine the lab turning down a Nobel Prize winner's request for a sample. But stealing was more fun, as Drakken had put it, and Shego had to agree. Plus, if things went as planned they would kill two birds with one stone tonight.

Not that actual killing would be involved. The planned events were tests, really, designed to gauge the apparently considerable abilities of Kim Possible and, to a lesser extent, her sidekick. Possible had thwarted, or hindered, or simply made herself a nuisance in enough of Shego and Drakken's schemes that they had decided Possible needed to be neutralized, if not outright eliminated. Preliminary research, however, had suggested that Possible was going to be far more difficult to deal with than any normal teenager should have been, and for reasons that weren't obvious.

They had started by gathering as much information as they could on Possible, both that available to the general public, and a great deal that wasn't. Her medical records, for example, where quite interesting. Kim had suffered the usual gamut of childhood ailments, but as she approached and entered her teen years her illness rate had fallen to zero. At least she had never been sick enough to need to see a doctor. Nor had she missed so much as a day of school because of health reasons. There were no injuries of any kind, either, even though Possible was an active participant in cheerleading and was a fairly aggressive participant in gym classes. A check of dental records revealed a similar dearth of problems: Possible had apparently not had a single cavity after her adult teeth came in. In fact, she hadn't even been to see a dentist in several years. Of course, she might simply have been lucky to avoid illness or injury, but Shego was skeptical. One other puzzle were the records from Possible's orthodontist. She'd had braces in early adolescence, and had taken (in the orthodontist's opinion) an abnormally long time to perform what amounted to minor straightening.

Interviews with various other villains who had gone up against Possible and her sidekick revealed more tantalizing clues. Professor Dementor had related dropping Kim to what he was sure would be her death, but she had survived (he later discovered) apparently none the worse for wear. Add Senor Senor Senior's tale of attempting to shoot Kim in the back with high powered weapons at short range to Shego's own burial of Kim under a mountain of debris, and it seemed that Kim was either much more durable than a normal person, or fantastically lucky. Other information suggested that Possible was gifted with remarkably acute eyesight and hearing, as well as strength that far surpassed the norms for a girl her age.

Unfortunately there was no hard data. They could guess Kim was stronger, but couldn't put a number on it. They thought she could hear better, but had no idea how much better. Shego and Drakken knew they needed to find those things out, and had devised means they hoped would get them the information they needed.

Her attention was drawn to a pair of blinking icons on the data pad she was holding.

"Henderson and Vickers are down," Shego announced softly, the throat mike she was wearing carrying her words to henchman and employer alike. "By their vitals they're unconscious, and I have movement in the east corridor, heading this way."

Shego found herself grinning. No doubt Possible's techno-nerd had provided full schematics of the building's various security and alarm systems. Unfortunately, Shego had installed her own as well. Better yet, they were completely passive, detecting nothing more than the slight air currents caused by someone walking past them, and so small as be all but invisible. It would take an expert who suspected their presence to find them, and Shego doubted Possible or Stoppable possessed such expertise.

"Very well," Dr. Drakken acknowledged from his place in the hover car, "Proceed as planned."

Shego nodded, even though Drakken couldn't see her from his position. "Section One," she ordered, "Continue loading. Section Two, places, now!"

Shego watched as the tell-tales showed Possible's progress. She raised her hand, preparing to signal the attack. A final glance showed all henchmen in their assigned positions, weapons ready.

The plan began to come apart almost immediately.

Possible and her sidekick came through the door, not cautiously, but in a full on charge. They split up as they did so, Stoppable inclining to the right, Possible making a bee-line toward a surprised Shego.

Most of the henchmen in Section Two were armed with what you might call stun guns. Like a Tazer they used electricity to shock their targets. Unlike a Tazer there were no wires trailing back to the launcher: each projectile was self-contained, and each gun carried a half dozen. Getting over their initial surprise the henchmen began firing, even as Shego ignited her fists.

Possible didn't even try to dodge. She came straight on, and was hit five or six times, without noticeable effect. Shego leapt forward, swinging and blasting. Possible ducked and twisted out of the way, instinctively Shego thought, as flame seemed to lick across Possible's bare abdomen. Shego let go a series of full power blasts, two of which at least seemed to wash over the red head, making her clothes smolder but without otherwise seeming to harm her.

Getting Possible's attention focused on her allowed another test to be performed. A henchman was able to attack from behind with a gadget that put a constrictive strap around Possible's arms and upper torso. The strap snugged itself up to a certain point. A normal person's arms would have been pinned to their sides. As Shego watched, Kim strained her arms a bit and tore through the strap.

"Gonna have to do better than that, Sheila," Kim crooned mockingly, resuming her advance.

"Can and will, Princess," Shego assured her enemy.

* * *

Ron watched helplessly as the hover car carrying Shego and her mysterious companion climbed away at high speed. While Kim had dealt with Shego (or tried to, anyway) Ron and Rufus had circled around, hoping to get at and disable the hover car. The approach had been easy enough, with most eyes on Kim. His ninja skills, feeble as they were, helped too, as did the mystical monkey power. He still had very little idea what he might ultimately be able to do with the power, but he had been able to use it to make at least one henchman forget he was there. The man had surprised him, getting the drop on him with a nasty looking weapon. Ron had said, simply and calmly, "You lost track of me." The henchman had blinked, and began looking to and fro in a frantic search, completely ignoring the young man standing in plain sight in front of him.

It hadn't worked nearly so well on the next one (hadn't worked at all, really) but Ron was pleased with himself anyway. He and Rufus had reached the hover car, and with theatrical leaps had landed on it's upper surface in classic attack postures. They had taken the occupants completely by surprise. One was a hideous looking fellow with blue tinted skin, clad in a blue lab coat, with deep bags under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in days. He was kind of weird to look at, Ron admitted, but not especially scary. Still, Rufus had taken one look at the guy and had fled, screaming. That surprised Ron, and one of the henchmen in the vehicle had tagged him with a stun staff, sending him falling to the floor, paralyzed. The hover car then began to rise. A dozen henchmen gang tackled Kim while Shego sent a line up to the ascending car and let it pull her to safety.

"Ron!" Kim exclaimed, throwing off the henchmen and leaping across the room to him. "Are you okay?"

"Except for not being able to move, yeah," Ron grunted. "It seems to be wearing off, though," he reassured a concerned looking Kim.

"Where's Rufus?" Kim asked.

"Dunno. He took one look at that Drakken guy and ran for his life."

Kim turned, listening, ignoring fleeing henchmen, her ears straining. A not often heard but recognizable whimpering reached her. Following it, she found Rufus huddled under some debris, trembling. Scooping him gently up, Kim returned the naked mole rat to Ron, who cradled him soothingly.

Rufus calmed slightly at Ron's touch. "What's the matter little buddy?" Ron asked gently.

"Bad man, bad man, hurt me," Rufus blubbered.

"Drakken hurt you?" Ron repeated, checking his friend for injuries. "When?" he demanded, anger coloring the word.

"'fore Smarty Mart," Rufus sobbed.

* * *

"I've run a complete scan," Wade said from the monitor in Kim's locker. Rufus was standing in a miniature C.A.T. scanner than had unfolded itself from inside the box the monitor sat on.

"I have to admit," Wade said, "that I never believed Rufus could talk, Ron. I thought he was just well trained."

Rufus, now almost completely recovered from his fright, chittered angrily and shook his forepaws at the image of Wade's face. Wade chuckled.

"Sorry, Rufus," he apologized.

"So what did you find out?" Kim asked.

"Rufus isn't a typical naked mole rat," Wade explained. "His brain is radically different - more like a human's than a rodent's."

"How?" Ron wondered.

"There's evidence of genetic engineering, both by selective breeding, and direct manipulation. I ran a test on that blood sample I took, and it turns out Rufus actually has some human DNA."

Kim and Ron exchanged looks.

"That would explain a lot," Ron said quietly.

Kim nodded. Naked mole rats only lived three or four years in the wild. Ron had had Rufus for just over four years now, and Rufus showed no signs of slowing down yet. Moreover, naked mole rats had a hive-like social structure, which meant Rufus shouldn't have been able to survive, let alone function normally, by himself. But he could, and now they knew why. They also knew the mysterious Dr. Drakken was involved somehow. Kim frowned. Shego's background in biochemistry meant she could have made the changes, but Rufus hadn't freaked out when he'd seen her. Maybe Shego and Drakken had been working together longer than they had thought?

"What about Dr. Drakken, Wade?" Kim said, changing the subject slightly. Ron had managed to get two semi-decent images of the man with his Kimmunicator before he'd been paralyzed. They were smeared and blurry, but Wade had thought he'd be able to work with them.

"Well, given the poor quality of the source imagery, I can't give you a definitive answer," Wade answered with his characteristic bluntness.

"How about an estimate then?" Kim grinned.

"I calculate an eighty-five percent probability that Dr. Drakken," Wade said, one of the blurry photos popping up on the screen. The photo shrank, then a copy of it slid off to one side, sharpening and morphing into a picture of a normal looking person. "Is actually Dr. Andrew Lipsky," Wade finished.

"The Nobel Prize winner?" Kim asked incredulously. Wade nodded silently.

Kim chewed her lower lip. What were the odds a famous scientist would take up crime? If Lipsky was Drakken, when had he recruited Shego? An idea as to how to find out came to her.

"Wade, set us up a ride to Gogh City."

* * *

"Is it possible the darts malfunctioned?" Lipsky asked. The question was more for form's sake than anything else, Shego knew. She shook her head.

"We tested them thoroughly," she reminded him. "The dud rate is about one in two hundred. Plus, I've reviewed the video. You can see the discharge from one of the darts as it struck." She gestured to a screen on the wall. It showed a close up of Kim Possible's torso. A dart was plainly visible at her right shoulder, a faint spider web of blue electrical discharges radiating away from it.

"That one hit should have taken her down," Shego said. "She didn't even notice it."

"Are we sure her clothing isn't insulated somehow?"

"Not sure, no," Shego admitted, "But she was hit on bare skin as well, with similar results."

Lipsky frowned, turning the problem over in his mind. "Clearly she isn't a normal teenager," he said eventually. "That leaves the question, just what is she?" Shego didn't answer, just looked at him expectantly. Drakken answered his own question.

"She may be a mutant," he proposed, "or perhaps she's the product of genetic engineering. A less likely possibility is that she has cybernetic enhancements."

Shego nodded. The cyborg idea was pretty far fetched in her opinion, but it made sense to cover all the bases. A familiar flicker of worry passed through her mind. Sometimes she and Drew were too analytical for their own good. It came from their scientific training, she supposed: leave as little as possible to chance, check every hypothesis against experimental data, and eliminate only that which you have proved to be untrue. Such methods yielded good results in the long run, but they were slow, and Shego often fretted that they were giving their enemies too much time in which to figure out what was going on.

"Well I know how to find out," Shego said, shaking her head to sweep away her doubts. "I see if I can get my hands on some of her DNA."


	8. Chapter 8

_ron-sama: I don't plan for Ron to be left in the dust. Just be patient :)._

_Jokerisdaking: Presumably Ron told Kim about Yamanouchi 'off-screen'._

_Anghammarad: Your wish is partly granted._

_DaemonCross: Thanks for the review and comments. I try to avoid clichés and overused plot devices, out of pure, pig-headed contrariness if nothing else!_

_Thanks to: captainkodak1, campy, MatthewC, mattb3671, Cold-Chaos, GargoyleSama, Salimoo, lady-of-tormentdeath, Triaxx2, daywalkr82, Visigoth29527, Spyke the Hedgehog and Wanderer3._

Wap!

"Ow!"

Wap!

"Arrgh! Stand still, Squeeb!" the freakishly mutated Gill half rasped, half gurgled.

Ron declined to obey. He had a strong hunch that if he stopped moving for even a moment he'd end up like Kim, Mr. Barkin and the rest of the cheer squad: glued to trees and/or walls by the viscous, snot-like goo Gil (or Gill, as the freak preferred) was capable of spitting in apparently endless amounts.

Ron dashed away from his foe, jumped against and kicked off from the trunk of a tree, and sailed over Gill's head, twisting as he did so, landing behind the mutant. The broomstick Ron had armed himself with hissed through the air.

Wap!

"Quit it!" Gill howled, clutching at his backside.

"Surrender," Ron commanded, letting the mystical monkey power infuse his words.

Gill snarled, his rage and hate overpowering Ron's attempt to end the fight.

"Never!"

Ron could hardly believe the situation he was in: fighting not only for his own life, but Kim's as well. Gill, who blamed Ron for his horrific new appearance, had gone to elaborate lengths to avenge himself, luring the Middleton Mad Dogs Cheer Squad to an abandoned camp on the shores of Lake Middleton. It was something right out of a cheesy horror movie. The only difference was that this villain, gross and creepy as he was, was still only flesh and blood.

Gill should have been a cakewalk. When he'd made his presence known, Kim had strode forward with complete confidence to put Gill in his place.

She'd never made it. The first hint Ron had that anything was wrong came when Kim stumbled over her own feet when she was still fifty feet away. The stumble was followed by a drunken stagger, a groan, and Kim collapsing to her knees. Gill had crossed to her, gloating.

"So you're the great Kim Possible, the girl who can do anything, huh? You don't look so tough to me," he'd cackled, before cracking Kim across the face with a scaly hand and covering her in muck. "Must come from hanging out with the Squeeb."

"I don't get it, Gill," Ron said conversationally. "How can I possibly be responsible for you mutating into a slimy freak?"

"It was the double swim time, like I said before, Squeeb!" Gill snapped back. "The more I swam, the more I wanted to swim. If you hadn't given me your swim time, I'd still be normal!"

"Doubt that," Ron muttered, spinning to avoid a streamer of sticky goo Gill launched his way.

Aloud, Ron said, "Yeah, right. So how come, of all the people that ever went swimming in the lake, you're the only one who turned into a fish guy?"

Wap!

"Rraarrgghh! 'Cause I found the stone on _your_ swim time, Squeeb!" Gill howled.

"What stone?" Ron probed, dancing away from Gill. The man-fish's fingers pushed aside the flaps of skin around his neck, revealing a crudely made necklace sporting a large green crystal that almost seemed to glow with an inner light.

"I found this in the lake," Gill said. "At first I thought it was just a weird rock, but as time went by, I realized that it was changing me."

"So why didn't you get rid of it?" Ron asked as the two of them circled warily.

"No!" Gill cried. "I mean...NO! You can't take it from me! It's mine!"

"You don't call it 'My precious' do you, Gill?" Ron mocked.

With a roar of rage Gill charged toward Ron, who sidestepped easily and brought his broomstick around.

Wap!

"I'll kill you!" Gill screamed as he stumbled forward, fighting to keep his balance.

"Rufus!" Ron commanded, even as he pulled the naked mole rat from his pocket. "Necklace!"

Rufus crouched in Ron's hand, muscles tensing even as the hand shot forward.

"Hnk-hah!" Rufus exclaimed gleefully.

Ron's arm reached full extension. Rufus sprang at the same instant and went flying across the gulf between Ron and Gill. He landed unnoticed on Gill's shoulder and scampered to his neck. Finding the chain of the necklace, Rufus' sharp incisors, optimized by evolution for tunneling through the hard soils of east Africa, sliced through the soft metal with little effort. The Rufus was down and away, running off with Gill's necklace dragging behind him.

Gill forgot about Ron instantly.

"Nooo! Bring that back! I need it!" he begged, starting after Rufus. In doing so Gill gave Ron a clear shot at the back of his head.

Ron took it.

* * *

"You okay, K.P.?" Ron asked anxiously, pulling at the stringy goo that held Kim fast to the tree. Kim's face was still pale, but she nodded. 

"I'm better, anyway," she said, "and as long as Rufus keeps that rock away from me I think I'll be fine."

Ron gave her a puzzled look, then glanced over to where Rufus sat, necklace in hand. Gill was nearby, bound hand and foot. He'd been almost hysterical until Rufus had brought his green stone close to him. It seemed to have a calming effect on the mutant teenager.

"What does the rock have to do with you getting sick?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Kim admitted. "All I can say is that when Rufus took it away, I started feeling better."

"Better enough to get yourself out of this stuff?" Ron whispered. "I can't break it."

"I'll try," Kim said. She flexed her shoulders and arms. The strands that had been holding her parted like cooked spaghetti.

"I guess so," Ron grinned, his usual cheerfulness having reasserted itself after the danger Gill presented had passed.

While Kim freed the others, Ron found and disabled the communications jamming gear Gill had used to cut them off from the rest of the world. Before long, emergency vehicles were crowding into the center of the long abandoned Camp Wannaweep. Gill was tranquilized and carted off to the Middleton Medical Center for treatment of whatever it was that had mutated him. After some experimentation, Ron put Gill's rock in a small metal box he found. It didn't completely negate whatever it was the rock did to Kim, but with the box at the back of the bus and Kim at the front she was able to make the ride home in relative comfort.

* * *

Ron bounced through the front door of the Possible home, an excited look on his face. He headed for the kitchen, where he found Kim's mom baking bread. 

"Mmmm, smells good, Mrs. Dr. P.," Ron said by way of greeting, bending down to sniff at a cooling, freshly baked loaf.

"Why thank you, Ron," Patricia smiled. "I thought dinner tonight could use an extra touch, so..."

Ron cast an experienced eye around the kitchen. Ingredients in various stages of preparation offered clues as to what the evening meal was going to be. A look in the refrigerator confirmed his suspicions.

"Yankee Pot Roast," Ron exclaimed, smacking his lips hungrily.

Patricia laughed. "I'll call your parents and tell them you'll be eating here tonight," she smiled.

"Boo-yah!" Ron exalted. Then, "Where's Kim, Mrs. Dr. P?"

"Up at the tree house," Patricia said. "She's waiting for you there."

* * *

Ron climbed the crude ladder to the tree house without announcing himself. 

"Hey, Ron," Kim greeted him as he stuck his head and shoulders through the trap door. She was staring at moving columns of strange, glowing symbols being projected from an object about a foot in diameter and shaped like a thicker than normal discus. Every so often Kim would reach out an touch keys set around the edges of the disk, altering the display.

"Reading your Dad's diary again?" Ron asked.

"Jor-el's diary, yes," Kim answered.

Ron settled into a cross-legged position on the floor and tried not to grin. Kim could be as stubborn as a mule about some things, and one of those things was how she referred to her biological parents. It wasn't that she didn't want to acknowledge them, but she was still coming to grips with her heritage, and was currently in a phase where her biological parents were 'Jor-el and Lara' instead of 'Dad and Mom'. Of course, Ron reflected, that made a certain amount of sense, since Kim had never known any parents but James and Patricia Possible, and didn't want to slight their place in her life.

"So what's this part about?" Ron inquired. Kim had learned to read, write and speak Kryptonian with the help of a teaching machine Jor-el had included in her ship's equipment. She was in the process of helping her parents learn the language as well, and had offered to teach Ron, but he had politely demurred.

"Your Dad is taking enough of your time in that regard," Ron had explained. It was true. Mr. Dr. Possible was positively giddy at the prospect of unlocking the secrets of Kryptonian science, even though, as he'd put it, it would take years, if not decades, to get to the point where it would be possible to understand even the basic concepts behind most of it.

Kim looked up and smiled. "These are poems Jor-el wrote when he was courting Lara," she answered, a fond smile touching her lips. "I don't understand the subtleties of Kryptonian well enough yet to translate them, so they seem kind of clumsy, but they're very sweet."

There was a brief silence, then Kim blinked as she suddenly remember something.

"Oh, and take a look at this," she invited. She touched more keys, and the flowing text disappeared, to be replaced by a slowly rotating image of what seemed to be an 'S' enclosed in an irregular pentagon, like a diamond seen from the side.

"What is it?"

"The symbol of the House of El," Kim answered.

Ron gave her a skeptical look.

"I know," she said defensively, "But seriously, it's just a coincidence that it looks like what you and I call the letter 'S'." She punched some more keys. "Look, I found other house crests that look sort of like letters from Earth alphabets." More glowing images appeared in the air.

"Okay, okay, you sold me," Ron grinned, and Kim chuckled as well.

"So," she said, "What brings you over today? Besides Mom's pot roast, that is?"

Ron blinked. "How did you...? Kim! Were you listening again...?" Ron sputtered.

"Ron," Kim said severely. "You know I promised not to do that."

"Then how...?"

"Uh, let's see: A) You and I have known for a week Mom was making pot roast for dinner tonight, and B) You love my Mom's pot roast."

Ron turned pink. "Damn my predictability," he fumed, but his eyes were twinkling, and Kim giggled.

"Actually," Ron said, trying (but not too hard) to salve his dignity, "I do have some news." Reaching into a pocket he pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment. At Kim's quizzical look Ron elaborated. "Well, it's almost the end of the school year, and Sensei invited me back to Yamanouchi for six weeks to work on my mad fu skills." He said the last lightly, but Kim heard the catch in his voice.

"And see your mysterious girlfriend?" Kim teased.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Ron yelped. Kim quirked an eyebrow at Ron as he blushed again.

"Seriously, K.P., Yori is great and all, but she's totally dedicated to the school. Besides," he added hesitantly, "I have my eye on someone closer to home."

"Oh really?" Kim asked. "Who is it?"

Ron got a conspiratorial look in his eye. Leaning toward Kim he whispered in her ear, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure," she replied earnestly.

Ron cast a furtive glance about. Satisfied the coast was clear he said, "So can I."

Kim gaped at him while Ron began to laugh. "Gotcha!" he crowed. Kim tried to scowl, but broke down in laughter herself.

"Fine, don't tell me. Just understand, I'm going to be watching you like a hawk for any clue who this new crush of yours is," Kim warned, her eyes sparkling.

"You're going to have a hard time doing that if I'm in Japan for a month and a half," Ron pointed out, and Kim's face fell. Ron felt a pang of sympathy. The only other significant amount of time he and Kim had spent apart was the summer his parents had sent him to the summer camp from hell.

"Good point," Kim mumbled.

"So why don't you come with me?" Ron suggested.

"Huh?" Kim asked, looking up.

"Come with me," Ron repeated. "I'm sure Sensei won't mind, and I'd enjoy the company. You'll like it, too. The school's in a great location, and Tokyo isn't far away, so we could go sightseeing on the weekends."

"Maybe shopping, too?" Kim asked eagerly.

"Shopping too," Ron smiled. "So you're coming?"

"If my folks say yes, why not?" Kim asked.

* * *

James helped himself to another slice of pot roast, then looked at his daughter. 

"Kimmie, you'll be interested to know we finished analyzing that stone you and Ron took from that Gill fellow."

Kim's fork froze halfway to her mouth. "What did you find out?" she asked breathlessly, eager to learn why the stone affected her the way it did.

Around the table Ron, Jim and Tim, and Patricia stopped eating and looked on expectantly.

"It's a new mineral, James explained. "Mostly ordinary elements like silicon, oxygen and carbon, but the key element is one we've never seen before. It's atomic number is one hundred-thirteen, which means it's a trans-uranic, and so should be extremely unstable. This stuff is radioactive, but it seems to have a fairly long half-life." James gave Kim a serious look. "It also seems to be of extraterrestrial origin."

"Extraterrestrial as in..." Jim broke in.

"...from Krypton?" Tim finished.

"It seems so," James nodded.

"But how is that possible?" Kim demanded.

"Well, Kimmie," James shrugged. "As near as I can figure, your ship used gravity induction drive. When Krypton exploded, some of the debris must have got caught up in the ship's drive field and pulled into hyperspace with you."

"That would explain the meteor shower that came along with you, Kim," Patricia added.

"Cool!" the Tweebs exclaimed.

"Not cool!" Kim said, glaring at her brothers.

"Aw, come on, Sis," they groused in unison. "You have to have _some_ weakness. It wouldn't be fair otherwise."

Kim grinned in spite of herself. Jim and Tim might be little monsters most of the time, but they'd taken the news that their big sister was both adopted, and an alien, in stride. In fact, they'd expressed a certain disappointment that she wasn't all slimy and gross, like a proper alien should be.

"Anyway," James went on. "The team at the Science Center accepted my proposal to call the new element Kryptonium, though of course, I didn't tell them why I chose that name."

"And what are you going to call the new mineral?" Patricia inquired.

"Oh, I think Kryptonite has a nice ring to it, don't you?" James said.


	9. Chapter 9

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Wanderer3: I usually make a list from first review received to the last( you know, bottom of the page to the top).

Triaxx2: Thanks for pointing that out.

Thanks to: Seamus Dubh, GargoyleSama, Darkcloud1, daywalkr82, drakwolfstoppable, Spyke the Hedgehog, campy, Cold-Chaos, MatthewC, Alan Wilkinson, Anghammarad, mattb3671 and Visigoth29527.

It was a long walk from where the bus dropped them off to the gates of the secret ninja school on the upper slopes of Mount Yamanouchi. Unlike the last time he'd come here, Ron was in much better shape, so the hike was easier, and he had time to enjoy the scenery.

"It's really beautiful here," Kim said softly, marveling at the twisted white strands of a fast flowing mountain stream as it tumbled down the wooded slope of the far wall of the valley. Low hanging clouds shrouded the peak, obscuring such sights until they were almost on top of them, making each one an unexpected surprise.

Ron nodded in agreement. The misty air seemed to blanket the area in silence, yet at the same time the woods were alive with the sound of running water. He adjusted the straps of his backpack and studied the trail.

"It's about another half mile to the bridge," he said, referring to the rope bridge that spanned a deep canyon below the school. "Then another half mile of serious climbing to the campus itself."

Kim gave him a skeptical look. "This hasn't been a serious climb?" she asked, reminding him with a single raised eyebrow of the numerous rest stops he'd taken as they made their way up the mountain.

Ron just grinned. For Kim the hike hadn't been a problem. Her backpack was even heavier than his was, since she'd brought more clothes. But of course, she wasn't even breathing hard.

"Compared to what's coming, this has been easy," he assured her.

* * *

The man known to generations of students as Sensei was sitting beneath a tree just outside the gates of the main compound of the school. He was waiting for Ron Stoppable to arrive, and was passing the time by meditating. A number of students were in the area as well. Some were emulating their teacher, but most were either studying or relaxing. 

Sensei allowed himself an inward smile. It might be more accurate to sat the students were pretending to meditate, or study, or relax. That one of the two living wielders of the mystical monkey power (three if you counted a certain naked mole rat) was returning to Yamanouchi was no secret. That said master was not alone was still a secret, at least to the general student body. Sensei knew, of course. A prudent man kept track of events, and of the doings of the people around him, even his friends. Older students had been dispatched to monitor and report on Stoppable-san's progress, and had passed word that he was not alone.

Sensei considered the matter of Kim Possible. After learning that Stoppable-san possessed the monkey power Sensei had set out to learn as much as he could about the young man. That included, by extension, the young woman who was Stoppable-san's friend. Accounts from Sensei's agents said Possible was an almost super-humanly gifted athlete, brave to the point of foolhardiness, and the dominant member of Team Possible, at least on missions. In non-mission matters she seemed more on a par with Stoppable-san, but still took the lead most of the time.

Oddly, Stoppable-san seemed not to resent, even slightly, the fact that much of his life was spent in Possible's shadow. That was a good sign, Sensei decided, as was the fact that Stoppable-san could and did step out of that shadow from time to time, with great effect.

From what Sensei had seen with his own eyes, Stoppable-san had a passive, almost submissive, personality...up to a point anyway. It wasn't that he was weak, but more as if he could not be bothered to act until a certain amount of pressure had been applied.

Sensei reflected further, and decided even that idea was imperfect, because the event that triggered Stoppable-san to action might come early or late, be great or small, might even pass unrecognized (except in hind-sight) by others. Yet Stoppable-san always recognized and took advantage of it. So it was, Sensei concluded, that Stoppable-san wasted no effort (or at least as little as possible) until the time to strike a single, decisive blow arrived.

Sensei reached out with his mind. Skilled as he was in the mystical aspects of the martial arts, it took all of his concentration and effort to search down the path and find Stoppable-san and his friend. When he did so Sensei couldn't help but grunt in surprise, his face twitching slightly. Stoppable-san was there, as expected, his aura shining with his usual joyful outlook on life. He seemed happy and at ease, and not at all concerned with the strange aura that came with him.

Sensei frowned slightly. All living things had a certain energy, to one degree or another, that a trained mind could perceive. Sensei could make out the dim, ghostly auras of trees and bushes, the tiny but substantially brighter beacons of insects and other small creatures, even the occasional sika deer or brown bear. The aura of each life form was unique, but all had a broad common underpinning that made them instantly recognizable. The aura following Stoppable-san was like nothing Sensei had ever seen, even when he had probed the realm of the dark spirits in the foolish days of his youth. The thing, whatever it was, fairly sizzled with power. Was it Stoppable-san's friend? If so, she was, despite appearances, as far from human as any creature Sensei had ever encountered and...

"Master Sensei! Master Sensei!" The shouted words tore the old man from his reflections. A commotion was brewing within the gates. A young man (in relative terms: he was easily in his thirties) came running out, a naked sword in his hand. A wave of bodies followed him, teachers and students alike, all armed, some with weapons that should not have been taken from the armory without Sensei's permission. They took up defensive positions at the head of the path down the mountain.

"What is the meaning of this?" Sensei demanded sternly.

The girl Yori, one of his most promising students, split off from the crowd and approached, bowing low.

"Master Sensei," she exclaimed breathlessly, "Master Masatake said..." Yori paused and took a deep breath. "He says an oni is coming!"

Sensei snorted and rose stiffly to his feet.

"Something unusual is coming," he acknowledged, his voice pitched so everyone could hear him. "But it is no demon," he said with a shake of his head.

Master Masatake, a solidly built man with short, salt-and-pepper hair, pushed his way through the mass of people. He too was armed, though his sword was still in its sheath on his back. He bowed deeply.

"Sensei-sama, I mean no disrespect, but are you sure? I have never felt anything like what now approaches."

Sensei returned the bow. "Masatake-sama, I share your confusion over the nature of the creature below, but it is in Stoppable-san's presence, and he is not concerned." The reply was very formal, as befitting one master addressing another,for Sensei had no desire to shame Masatake in front of the others. Had he not known Stoppable-san was bringing a friend, he too would have been concerned. He still was, in fact, but not so much as he might have been.

Masatake's lips twitched, ever so slightly, as he held back a grin. Straightening he said, "Young Stoppable is not always aware of what is going on around him, Sensei-sama."

"True," Sensei admitted, not quite able to keep the amusement he felt out of his voice. "But I think we will reserve judgment until we know more, Masatake-sama."

Masatake bowed again. "It shall be as you say, Master." He turned and began ordering the students and teachers back to their routines.

Sensei returned his gaze to the path, and the rope bridge far below. What, he wondered, was this creature traveling with Stoppable-san doing amongst mortals, and why was it disguising itself as a human? What was its true nature? What were its intentions? Time would tell.

* * *

Kim gripped the rope rails of the swaying bridge and looked down. She was glad she wasn't afraid of heights. The canyon was narrow, but deep. 

'Five hundred feet, if it's an inch,' she thought. Far below, a ribbon of blue-white water swirled around tumbled boulders. The prospect of falling that far didn't sit well with her. She was incredibly tough (how many people could shrug off light auto-cannon fire with nothing to show for it but a bruise?) but that didn't mean she'd be a happy camper when she hit bottom. At the very least she'd be cold and wet, with a long climb ahead of her. But Kim knew the odds of her falling were so slight as to not be worth mentioning. Her sense of balance was as acute as any of her others.

Ron was a different story. He had issues with heights, among many others, and had a death grip on the ropes. But he was moving steadily, setting a good pace. Kim smiled at his back. Her cousin Joss was right about him, she reflected. Scared, Ron might be, but he had courage in abundance. Oh sure, he was prone to initial panic (though not so much now-a-days), but he always knuckled down in the end.

That was why he had started across the bridge with no more than a quick look down and a slight gulp.

He hadn't been kidding about the serious climb thing either. At the opposite end of the bridge the path became much steeper. It was well maintained, and had been made easier by judicious improvements, but it was still a demanding road.

"Couldn't they make the climb a little easier?" Kim asked as she followed a grunting, gasping Ron.

"Sure," he wheezed, pausing for breath. "But Sensei said it's part of the school's defenses, and even if they don't have to worry about rogue shogun's or samurai armies anymore, it still discourages unwanted visitors."

Kim shrugged indifferently. The tenacity with which some people clung to tradition baffled her. Sure, it was nice to remember the old ways, but would a cable car, or even just proper stairs, be too much to ask?

"You want me to carry your pack?" she offered, suspecting that Ron would decline.

"No thanks, K.P.," Ron said, shaking his head. "I need the exercise."

* * *

The climb turned out to be worth it, though. The Yamanouchi School sat on a rocky promontory, overlooking gorgeous alpine meadows and scattered clumps of trees. Snowfields lay below, around, and above it, contrasting with the stark beauty of the flowery meadows. Above it all towered the peak of Mount Yamanouchi, glistening in its mantle of snow and ice. 

Outside the walled compound of the school, beneath a spreading evergreen tree, sat a small, wizened man with long white hair and a beard and moustache of the same color. With him was a slender figure clad in black, its back to Ron and Kim.

The second figure rose and turned. It was a girl, Kim saw, with dark hair and exotic, almond shaped eyes. The girl's face was expressionless, but her eyes sparkled with recognition.

"Stoppable-san," she said, bowing deeply, "Yamanouchi is honored by your presence."

Ron returned the bow, a grin lighting his face. "It was my honor to climb the mountain…again," he jested. The girl's expression didn't change a whit, Kim noted. Was this Ron's secret crush from his time here? If so, she seemed a little on the frosty side.

Rufus, meanwhile, had awakened and clambered up on Ron's shoulder. He yawned, stretched, and took a look around.

"Yori!" he squealed, and launched himself at the girl. In a moment Rufus had his tiny arms as far around Yori's neck as he could manage. His exuberance broke Yori's reserve. She giggled and took Rufus in her hands, planting a kiss on the top of his head.

"It is good to see you again, pink one," she smiled. "You also, Stoppable-san," she added, all pretense of stoicism gone. Ron got a kiss as well, right on the lips, which made him blush bright red.

"Hey, Yori," Ron stammered, hugging her briefly. He turned to the old man and bowed deeply. Rufus, again on his shoulder, imitated the gesture.

"Master Sensei, I have returned as you asked," Ron said formally.

"With a guest," Sensei rejoined. "Does that not violate the charge I gave you, not to tell of your adventure here?"

'The existence of the school is not a secret, Master. Only its true nature is, and of that, I have said nothing."

Sensei smiled. "Well said, Stoppable-san." The old man rose and crossed to where Kim and Ron stood.

"Uh, Master, Yori, this is Kim, by the way. My friend, Kim Possible," Ron clarified.

Sensei and Yori both bowed, making Kim feel more than a little awkward.

"Welcome to the Yamanouchi School, Kim Possible. We are honored to have you as a guest," Sensei greeted her.

"It's my pleasure," Kim said, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"You must be tired after your climb," Sensei went on. "Come, I will walk with you to the guest house, which has been made ready for you. There you can rest and refresh yourselves. This evening, you will be the guests of honor at a formal dinner."

* * *

The guest house Sensei referred to was tucked away behind one of the dormitories. Sensei took his leave of Kim and Ron at the threshold, leaving Yori to let them in and show them around. 

"Doesn't look quite like I always imagined Japanese architecture, let alone the rest of the school," Kim mused aloud.

Yori smiled. "Yamanouchi is an old school, but the guest house is relatively new. It was built in the late sixteenth century to accommodate European visitors. As such, it has a strong Western influence in its design."

Kim decided to take Yori's word for it. Exactly what those influences were, she had no idea.

Yori showed them the bedrooms that had been prepared for them, as well as the toilets and bathing facilities. Both were a touch on the primitive side: a self-composting (and surprisingly odorless latrine) and a simple wooden tub in a room with an antique looking cast iron boiler in which to heat water. A scuttle of shiny black coal sat nearby.

"Quaint," Kim murmured under her breath.

Ron announced his intention to take a nap before dinner. Yori invited Kim to take a walk with her, and Rufus decided to accompany them. As the women strolled around the grounds Yori pointed out features of interest and made small talk. Kim got the impression that Yori was working up to something but declined to press the matter.

"Possible-san," Yori asked finally, her voice blunter than Kim expected, "What do you know about Yamanouchi?"

Kim smiled thinly. "Checking Ron's story?" she asked.

"Yes," Yori replied unhesitatingly. Then, somewhat awkwardly, "I consider Stoppable-san a friend, but his bringing you here was a shock to most of us...for a number of reasons."

Kim thought she caught evasiveness in Yori's voice and expression, and wondered just what bush Yori was beating around.

"I know what I heard from Mister Barkin when he announced the exchange program, and a little more that I found out on-line."

"Such as?" Yori prompted.

"That Yamanouchi has a long history, at least a thousand years worth. That it's the most exclusive school in Japan, maybe in the world, in that it accepts no applications: admission is by invitation only, and being a Yamanouchi graduate is considered the highest possible academic achievement in Japan."

"Anything else?"

Kim smirked a little. "I suspect two things: the first is that Ron crushed on someone he met here," she said with a pointed glance at her companion. Yori's cheeks reddened, but she said nothing. "The second is that the curriculum here includes a healthy dose of martial arts training, possibly ninjitsu. I base that on the significant improvement in Ron's fighting prowess when he came back."

"You are an astute observer, Possible-san," Yori allowed.

'More astute than you realize,' Kim thought but didn't say. Her eyes and ears had noted the presence of a number of surreptitious observers shadowing the two women as they walked. It was possible the onlookers were merely curious, but Kim suspected a more artful purpose to their actions.

Kim frowned thoughtfully. Just what was this place Ron had brought her to? What were their intentions? Probably not sinister, she decided. After all, they had helped Ron become a better fighter, and shown him a how to control and use the mystical monkey power, at least a little. They might have an agenda for Ron, but that didn't mean they meant him harm. 'I'll just wait and see,' Kim told herself.

* * *

Not far away, on the flank of Mount Higashidate, the international fugitive known as Monkey Fist peered through a telescope at the walls of the Yamanouchi School. Once the scion of an old and noble English family, Monkey Fist had squandered his family's considerable wealth in an effort to become a master of both Tai-shing-pek-kwar and of the mystical monkey power that was key to ultimate mastery. He had come close to succeeding, only to be thwarted on the brink of absolute triumph by that clumsy buffoon, Ron Stoppable. 

Bent on vengeance, Monkey Fist had been forced into hiding while he rebuilt his fortune. It had taken a couple of years, doing what amounted to grunt work for various Asian criminal cartels, but he had done it. More importantly, he now commanded an army (about one hundred and fifty, so more like a company, but why quibble over details?) of monkey ninjas, and was in a position to avenge his wounded aristocratic pride. Stoppable's return to Yamanouchi was a double blessing. Not only could Monkey Fist kill Stoppable, he could seize once more the Lotus Blade, along with the other weapons of power the school guarded. It was all as the prophecy had said. He had only to wait for the opportune moment, about three weeks hence, and victory was assured.

Monkey Fist turned his baggy, blood-shot eyes to the shadowy figures behind him.

"Soon, my monkey ninjas," he crooned. "At the full moon, we strike!" The monkey ninjas responded with shrieks and hoots, and sunlight glinted off the steel blades of upraised weapons.

* * *

The taxi threaded its way through the streets of London's Soho district. The man known as Duff Killigan sat in the back seat with two of his men and tried to keep the irritation he felt off his face. He didn't muchcare forLondon. The British capital was too big and crowded for his liking. Edinburgh would have suited him better, or better still the little pub in the Lochalsh Hotel in Kyle on Scotland's west coast. A more beautiful place for a meeting would be hard to find, and farther away from prying eyes it would be hard to get. 

Killigan sighed. Alas, his mysterious patron had given a London address. Killigan snorted. It wasn't every day an envelope stuffed with five thousand in sterling and a note with an address and an offer of employment came in the Post. Whoever this Dr. Drakken was, he seemed to have plenty of money. That was always a good sign. It only remained to find out what serviceKiiligan would have to render to get more of the good Doctor's funds.

The taxi braked to a halt on a side street. "Here y' are, Guv'n'a," the cabbie said, his phony, for-the-tourists Cockney accent grating on Killigan's ears. One of his men paid the tab, and then the three of them were standing on the sidewalk, looking at their destination. It was a drab building in a drab neighborhood. Punks, skinheads, Goths and various other unsavory types were scattered about. A few cast curious or angry looks at Killigan and his Armani suit. He didn't ignore them: a prudent fellow always paid attention to the people around him. But he took no action, either.

"Tom, you and Clarence wait outside. I'll call you if I need you." With that, Killigan rang the bell.

The door opened. A strikingly lovely woman in a low cut dress of green and black silk greeted him with a smile.

"Hello, Mister Killigan, please come in."

"Ah, Miss Shego," Killigan smiled, recognizing the green skinned beauty instantly. "So you're working for this Dr. Drakken, too, eh?"

"In a matter of speaking,' Shego purred. She favored Killigan with a flirtatious smile. "Follow me, please. Dr. Drakken is waiting for you." She turned and led the way deeper into the building. Her dress, Killigan noted, was very thin, and left little to the imagination. Her hips swayed suggestively as she walked, and Killigan felt his blood stirring.

"It'll be my pleasure, lassie," he murmured honestly.


	10. Chapter 10

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Wanderer3: Monique will be turning up soon with an important part to play.

Thanks to: campy, Anghammarad, MatthewC, Spyke the Hedgehog, Visigoth29527, Triaxx2, Lydia King, RamaFan, demon-sword and FAH3.

Kim paused in her walk and raised her camera. A waterfall was visible through a gap in the trees. She studied the sight through the viewfinder. It was lovely, but she couldn't really see that much of it. Still, the camera was digital, and had plenty of memory, so Kim took a shot. Then she started down the trail again.

It was three weeks into Ron's time at Yamanouchi, and Kim was taking her now customary mid-morning hike. Ron was in class (or rather, under instruction) from four a.m. until noon, either doing martial arts training or being tutored by Sensei in various aspects of the mystical monkey power. After the midday meal Ron had an open schedule. Kim had expected him to use most of it eating or catching up on his sleep, but he'd surprised her by actually using some of the time to study on his own. That was so unusual that Kim actually found it a little unsettling, but she had decided she could live with it. Besides, Ron rarely kept at it for more than an hour. After that he was his usual goofy, fun loving self, eager to spend time with her. True, there weren't many of the usual American teenager type pass-times to be had at Yamanouchi, but there was an intramural baseball league, and various other sports. Some of the female students had taken Kim under their collective wing, and she had even run into Hirotaka, the boy who had come to Middleton as part of Sensei's exchange program. He was as dreamy as ever, but it turned out he had a steady girlfriend who, according to Yori (who turned out to be Hirotaka's sister), he was going to marry upon graduation.

Kim considered the matter of Yori. She clearly liked Ron, but just as clearly said liking went only as far as friendship, whatever it might have been in the past. For his part, Ron seemed both to recognize that fact, and be okay with it. His new crush, whoever it was on, apparently made up for the 'loss' of Yori's affections.

Kim snorted. "I think that's enough relationship analysis for one day," she said aloud. Forcing those thoughts from her mind Kim returned her attention to the trail. And just as well, for as she turned the next corner she found herself standing at the brink of a precipice. It was a canyon, about a hundred feet wide and a little deeper, with a fair sized stream coursing along the bottom. A short distance upstream Kim could see the waterfall. The stream only dropped about fifty feet, but the fall was pretty none-the-less. Unshipping her camera again, Kim snapped a few pictures.

'Nice,' she said to herself, 'but the angle from here isn't so good. If I could just get across the valley...'Kim pondered a bit. The trail branched here, one leg following the stream downriver, the other snaking down into the canyon and up the other side before continuing around the mountain. The climb involved wouldn't be that difficult, and Kim was heading for the cliff edge when she had an other idea. Facing the canyon she backed up, took a few running steps and jumped. She sailed across the chasm and landed with room to spare on the other side.

"Too easy," she murmured, walking back to the edge, the waterfall momentarily forgotten. A look down showed that the bottom of the canyon was composed of boulders of various sizes, all coated with moss or slippery looking green goo. One rock caught Kim's eye. It was fairly large, with a flat upper surface. With it as her target, Kim jumped.

The green goo was as slippery as it looked. Kim landed okay, but her feet went out from under her and she fell face first on the stone. She lay still for a moment, slightly stunned, then carefully pushed herself up. Since the rocks offered only treacherous footing, Kim walked out into the stream. The water was fast moving but not terribly deep, and she had no troubling standing in place. The walls of the canyon were rough, with plenty of ledges and cracks. Picking a ledge halfway up one wall, Kim gathered her legs and jumped. She overshot just a little, and had to use her outstretched arms to keep from doing another face plant in the canyon wall, but overall she was pleased. Two similar jumps and she was out of the canyon, following the trail along its edge.

A little farther on the sound of roaring water told Kim she was approaching the big canyon just below the school, though a little downstream of the rope bridge. The stream she was following made a spectacular waterfall as it joined its larger sister. Kim stood for a while, just admiring the view. She was immediately tempted to repeat her jump to the bottom experiment, but was daunted by the depth. Five hundred feet was a long way. She'd be moving really fast when she hit, and breaking her legs wasn't high on her list of priorities.

'Still,' Kim told herself, 'I've got my grapple gun. I'll just have it ready in case I start having second thoughts.' Slipping off her backpack Kim rummaged through her mission gear (which she had brought with her out of long habit, rather than from anticipated need) and snagged the hairdryer shaped gadget. A quick check to see that it was loaded and in good order and Kim was stepping up to the brink.

'Here goes,' she thought, and jumped.

The rock walls of the canyon flashed past with ever increasing speed. Kim looked down calmly. She had picked another large, relatively flat boulder as a landing point, but there was a wind blowing down the canyon and it was carrying her off course. Kim kept a steady grip on the grapple gun as the canyon floor rushed up at her. The big boulder was sliding off to the side, a field of sharp looking rocks moving in to take its place. Without thinking about it, Kim willed herself toward the big rock. Obediently it moved back under her.

Kim was so surprised she forgot all about landing, and hit the ground as limp and unready as a rag doll.

* * *

"Ow," Kim moaned as she collected her thoughts. She was lying on her side atop the big rock. Various body parts protested injuries done to them, but a quick assessment showed only minor damage. Kim rolled over and sat up. There was a sharp pain on the side of her head, but she wasn't bleeding. A glance at the rock showed a good-sized, fresh chip knocked out of it where her skull had struck. The grapple gun had been dashed to pieces on impact. Kim found bits of it strewn amongst the stones.

'Did that really happen?' Kim wondered, thinking about the moving boulder. 'Maybe it was a sudden change in the wind?' That made a certain amount of sense. After all, no normal person could alter the path of a fall just by wanting to. But then, she remembered, she wasn't exactly a normal person.

'I think I'll try that again,' she decided, and started climbing.

* * *

Ron strolled toward the guesthouse. He was done with the day's training and lessons, and was looking forward to relaxing for a while. From within a handy fold in Ron's gi came a soft snoring sound. Rufus, having stuffed himself at the midday meal, was now sleeping soundly.

'That's a pretty good idea,' Ron grinned to himself. Getting up at four in the morning wasn't the most fun. Being high up on a mountain made for cold mornings, even in the summer. The hour of vigorous exercise that followed the wakeup call did a lot to push back the chill, as did the hot breakfast served afterward, but it didn't really warm up until late morning. After breakfast came two hours relentless drilling in martial arts. Both armed and unarmed styles were practiced. After drills students went to their academic courses, where they studied everything from international relations to the correct way to perform a tea ceremony.

Ron, however, spent his time after drills with Sensei, who instructed him in the secrets of the mystical monkey power. Naturally the lessons covered what Ron could do with the power as he became more skilled, but they also included a good deal of philosophy, and discussions about what he couldn't (or rather, shouldn't) do. Some of the things he might one day be able to do were downright terrifying, for all that he was unlikely ever to rise so high. Apparently, becoming a Great Master, as Sensei referred to it, required a lifetime of study and devotion, something that Ron, by his own admission, was highly unlikely to commit himself to.

But even if he never got above middling proficiency, Ron would (if he chose to) be the deadliest warrior alive. He would be faster than any other human being. He would be more nimble, able to pull off stunts that would be impossible for anyone else to match. He would, sensei told him, be able to walk unnoticed through a crowd, killing as he went, and escape unseen.

Ron had shuddered at the thought. "I can't imagine ever wanting to kill anyone, Sensei," he'd declaimed. Sensei smiled sadly in response.

"Alas," the old man said, "For we mere mortals, what we want to do is sometimes overshadowed by what we need to do."

That was followed by a long discussion of how a warrior didn't always have the luxury of waiting for a perfect solution, especially if he was a champion of the innocent. "A good solution now is better than a perfect solution too late."

Every lesson with the old man gave Ron a lot to think about, and he did a lot of thinking. But, Ron reasoned, he thought best on a full stomach, and while the midday meal had been both nutritious and filling, he was a growing boy, and one who had worked hard all day. His body had already made enough progress on what he'd eaten that he was getting hungry again. If Kim was back from the hike she was going to take, he'd whip up a snack/meal for the two of them.

Rounding the last corner he saw a thin plume of black smoke rising from one of the chimneys. Kim was or had been heating water. Pushing through the front door he was greeted by her voice.

"Ron, is that you?"

"Yeah, K.P., where are you?" he called.

"In the bath," she answered. Ron made his way to the room in question. Closing his eyes and putting a hand over them he eased the door open, then backed into the room.

"Bit early in the day for a bath, isn't it, Kim?" he asked, feeling his way to the stool he knew was in the room and sitting down, still facing away from her. This arrangement had come about not long after their arrival, when Ron had tried to talk to Kim through the closed bathroom door. Such a conversation was possible, but not terribly enjoyable. So a compromise had been developed. Ron (or Kim, as the case might be) could be in the room, but had to keep his back turned. It worked well enough that they didn't even ask any more.

"Not after what I've been through today," Kim answered languidly.

Ron's curiosity got the better of him. He opened one eye and turned his head just enough that he could see Kim's head and face. She was sunk down in the tub until only her head and the tops of her shoulders were visible above the layer of soap bubbles on top of the water, her eyes closed, a relaxed look on her face.

"What have you been through today?" he asked. Kim looked fine physically, so maybe she'd had a stressful day or something.

Kim opened her eyes and looked at him. Ron went beet red and looked away, causing Kim to giggle.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"For what?" Kim demanded. "It's not like you can see anything, after all."

"True," Ron admitted. He was about to turn back when his gaze fell on Kim's clothes. The cargo pants and long sleeved shirt she'd been wearing had both been spotless and intact the last time Ron saw her. Now they were torn, stained, wet and filthy. The pants were so shredded in fact, that they looked fit for the rag bin, or the garbage.

"What did you do?" Ron demanded, turning to confront her. "You clothes look like you've been riding in a cement mixer or something."

Kim favored Ron with an impish grin. "Or something," she teased. Then her expression changed to excitement. "I learned something today," she confided. "Let's go for a walk later and I'll show you."

"Sounds good to me,' Ron grinned, relaxing. Knowing Kim she'd spent the day somersaulting down the mountain, just for kicks. "Hey, that reminds me, I have something _I _want to show _you_."

Kim looked at him expectantly.

"I just mastered it today," Ron explained, rising. "Although Rufus has been able to do it since the first day of our first trip here."

At the sound of his name Rufus awakened, stretched, looked sleepily about, then went back to sleep. Ron gently lifted Rufus from the folds of his gi and placed the still sleeping naked mole rat on a towel near the cast iron boiler.

Returning to the stool Ron sat down again, facing Kim.

"Watch closely," he cautioned. Kim affected a scowl of concentration.

Ron vanished.

Completely.

Kim started. Her eyes narrowed as she brought first infrared, then x-ray vision into play. There was no sign of Ron. Equally astonishing, she couldn't hear him at all, no heartbeat, no breathing, nothing. It was as if he wasn't there anymore.

"Ron? Ron!" Kim called, sitting up in the tub.

Ron became visible instantly as he fell backwards off the stool, a frightened yelp escaping his throat as he went over.

"Ron!" Kim exclaimed, "Are you okay?"

"Gah! Ah! Fine, yes, I'm fine," he stammered, trying to sound reassuring, his hands clasping over his eyes.

"What happened?"

"Uh, you sat up in the tub, K.P. Kinda broke my concentration," Ron explained.

Kim glanced down and understood. Except for a few soap bubbles here and there, a couple of things were plainly visible. Kim blushed and slipped down into the water again.

"Sorry," she apologized. "You startled me is all. How did you do that anyway?"

Ron clambered to his feet and took a minute to compose himself before explaining.

"It's simply, really," he finally said. "I used the mystical monkey power to hide myself from your mind."

"Not 'turn invisible'?" Kim asked skeptically.

"Not in the sense of turning transparent," Ron denied with a shake of his head. "Sensei said a camera would show I was here the whole time. The light reflecting off me was still hitting your eyes. Your mind just wasn't processing the information, that's all."

"That's all," Kim echoed, thinking. Her eyes narrowed again, this time in suspicion. "And just what are you going to do with this newfound power of yours?" she asked.

"I don't know what you mean," Ron protested innocently.

"So you _aren't_ going to sneak into the girls locker room at school?" Kim accused, not quite able to keep a grin from turning up the corners of her lips.

"No!" Ron denied loftily. Then he hesitated, casting a furtive gaze about. "Well, _maybe_," he allowed. "Once, anyway."

"Ron! That is so wrong," Kim scolded, her tone righteous.

"This from little miss I use my x-ray vision to peek into the boys locker room," Ron retorted playfully.

"Just don't do it while I'm in there, okay?" Kim asked, surrendering.

"Promise," Ron pledged solemnly.

* * *

Later, after lunch, Kim led Ron to the edge of the cliff near the rope bridge.

"So what's this thing you have to show me?" Ron asked, looking cautiously over the edge.

"Do you trust me?" Kim asked by way of an answer, her tone frank.

"With my life," Ron answered unhesitatingly.

"Climb on then," Kim ordered, turning her back to him.

"Aren't we a little old for piggy-back rides?" Ron joked as he wrapped his arms around Kim's neck and shoulders and pulled himself up. Kim gripped his legs, then asked, "Got a good hold?"

"Sure," Ron said.

"How about you, Rufus?"

"Hnk-hha!" Rufus chirped happily, giving Kim a tiny thumbs up.

"Okay, boys. Here we go," Kim said soberly. She took three steps forward and jumped into the canyon.

Ron felt a stab of wild panic. They had no grapple guns, no ropes, no parachutes, no flying packs. Kim might be able to survive the fall, but he and Rufus would be...

...Ron noticed a load on his arms and legs. Kim was slowing down! The deceleration continued all the way down, until they landed on the valley floor as lightly as a feather floating down onto a velvet cushion.

Ron slipped off Kim's back and stared at her wide eyed. "How did _you_ do _that_?" he demanded excitedly. "That was awesome!"

"Cool, huh?" Kim grinned.

"I'll say," Ron agreed before frowning thoughtfully. "Umm, how are we going to get back up?"

* * *

Kim opened her eyes. Outside the open window of her bedroom the full moon shed a cold, white light on the snowy slopes of Mount Yamanouchi and the bit of the school wall visible from Kim's vantage point.

What had awakened her? The night sounds coming in through the window shouldn't have. Super keen ears went into overdrive as Kim sought for the trigger of her wakefulness. Silence came from Ron's room. No, not silence. Rufus was there, breathing steadily, apparently asleep. Ron was absent. X-ray vision went looking, and found him standing on the patio at the back of the house, staring out at the neighboring mountains.

Kim crawled out of her bed and pulled her night robe on over the tee shirt and panties she wore as sleeping attire. Sliding her feet into her slippers she headed for the balcony.

"Hey, K.P.," Ron greeted her softly, not looking back. He seemed troubled by something. Gliding almost soundlessly across the paving stones Kim came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist in a gentle hug, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Trouble sleeping?" she whispered.

One of Ron's hands settled over hers, while the other reached up to brush its fingers against her cheek.

"Yeah," he confirmed quietly. "I just feel...weird. Like something is about to happen."

"Something bad?" Kim wondered.

"I don't know. I just get the feeling that something is out there," Ron said, nodding his head at the nearest peak.

Kim said nothing, just peered at the mountain in question. It seemed to zoom closer as she stared, another ability she'd discovered, and quite a handy one at times. She didn't see anything, which didn't surprise her. Between the forest covering the lower slopes, and the valleys and ravines etched into its flanks, there were far more hiding places on the peak than she could search in a short time.

"Between us, we'll handle it, whatever it is," Kim said confidently. Ron turned his head and looked at her, brown eyes looking into green. He smiled, and Kim felt...something. She noticed, too, that they were a lot closer than usual. And that Ron was bare-chested. And that he had defined muscles. And that she suddenly felt warm.

"You're the best, K.P."

Kim fought off an urge to lower her eyes and look up at Ron through her lashes. What was going on here? This was Ron, not some super-cute guy.

If Ron noticed her unease he didn't let on. But he did come to Kim's rescue by turning and slipping his arm around her midsection, then guiding her toward the house.

"Let's get back inside before we get chilled," he suggested amiably.

Kim grinned. "Ron, I don't think I can get chilled."

"Okay," Ron amended without missing a beat, "Before _I_ get chilled."

* * *

Away on the other side of Mount Higashidate, Monkey Fist and his monkey ninjas watched a chuck of the mountain tear itself loose. A hulking figure shook bit of broken rock of itself and stomped toward the monkey master, each step of its enormous feet shaking the earth. The moonlight revealed an elaborately carved statue of a monkey, thirty feet tall, armed with a massive club, with a malevolent green glow lighting up the basketball sized emeralds that served as its eyes.

"What is thy bidding, my master?" the living rock asked, its voice like an earthquake.

"Carry us to the Yamanouchi School," Monkey Fist commanded. A massive hand came down, palm open. Monkey Fist stepped onto it as his monkey ninjas swarmed over the stooping form of the giant statue. When all were secure the great figure started through the trees, pushing them aside as needed to clear a path. Monkey Fist cackled insanely. By the end of this day, Ron Stoppable would be dead; he, Monkey Fist, would wield the Lotus Blade; and all the world would bow to the true monkey master.

* * *

In Middleton, Duff Killigan rapped smartly on the front door of the Possible residence. Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Possible had each just departed for their respective workplaces, leaving their twin sons at home alone. Kim Possible, Killigan had learned shortly after arriving in town, was in Japan and wouldn't return for some time. That made his job a lot easier.

Killigan had never worked in America, but the skills of a master thief travel well. It hadn't taken long to glean that the Possible family's home had a custom-built alarm system, which made breaking in undetected pretty much impossible. So Killigan had opted for the direct approach. After observing the Possibles for a week, he'd decided the best time to strike was in the morning, after the parents left for the day. That time was now. Through the door he heard running feet. The lock clicked and the door swung inward, revealing a pair of youthful faces.

"Can we-" one of the boys started.

"-help you?" the other finished.

Killigan smiled broadly at the two. "Aye, lads," he nodded, even as he squeezed a small bulb concealed in his off hand. Killigan was well practiced with the device, and a stream of clear liquid splattered in the boys' faces. Their eyes rolled back in their heads and they slumped to the floor.

Killigan stepped into the house and closed the door. "You lads have a nice nap," he said to the unconscious pair at his feet, "While your old Uncle Duff has a look around."

* * *

Killigan examined his prize with a dubious eye. His employers had struck him as an odd pair, not the least because of the strange make-up they wore at all times. Of course, he'd heard rumors that their odd complexions were their real ones, but in truth all Killigan cared about was the color of their money. And money Dr. Drakken and Shego had possessed. In sufficient quantity to induce Duff Killigan, Europe's greatest thief (alleged thief, that was. Nothing had ever been proven, no matter what the national police of Europe's various countries might suspect) to travel to America and steal...one of Kim Possible's _baby teeth_.

When Drakken had said what he wanted Killigan had been a bit nonplused, to say the least. But when Drakken offered a tip as to the location of the item he wanted, as well as double Killigan's usual fee, well...

"I still can't believe Drakken is obsessed enough about this Possible girl to learn that one of her mother's friends has a blog where she mentioned that Mrs. Dr. Possible kept some of her children's baby teeth," Killigan muttered quietly. Oh well. The teeth had been right were Drakken had said they would be, in a small plastic bag stapled to one of the pages of Kim's baby book.

Killigan tucked the bag into a pouch on his belt. Working quickly he positioned the Possible boys on the couch in the living room, then turned on the TV and tuned it to the Science Channel. He had donned rubber gloves before touching anything in the house, so he didn't have to worry about prints. The drug he'd used on the boys caused short term memory loss as a side effect. With luck, they would think they had simply fallen asleep while watching TV, and no-one would ever suspect that Killigan had been there.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later Drakken gleefully clutched the bag of baby teeth while Shego paid Killigan the balance of his fee and sent him on his way.

"At long last, Shego, we possess Kim Possible's DNA. There's no doubt this time!" Drakken crowed when Shego returned. He practically sang the words, he was so happy.

"Uh huh, uh huh," Shego nodded "If there's any dentin left in them, and it's intact enough for us to get a useful sample."

"Must you always be so negative, Shego?" Drakken demanded.

"Just pointing out a relevant fact, Drew," Shego said calmly.

"You pointed it out when I got the idea, and several times since as well. I admit it's a bit of gamble, but we don't have many avenues left open to us," Drakken retorted.

Shego nodded, a bit glumly. Kim Possible's DNA had proved an elusive beast. None of the DNA samples they had collected showed any unusual characteristics, but then, none of them could be definitively linked to little Kimmie, either.

Shego held out her hand. "Give me the teeth. I'll start processing them," she said, sounding a bit downcast.

"Here you are, Dr. Gogh," Drakken said formally as he handed her the bag, "I'm sure your efforts will bear fruit."

"I hope so, Dr. Lipsky," Shego answered. "I'm getting tired of beating my head against a brick wall."


	11. Chapter 11

elisteran: I agree that on the show, Kim dodges stuff. She has to, otherwise she'd get hurt. I think that having the knowledge that you were highly resistant to damage would alter your behavior to a certain degree, though, and Kim is starting to show that.

Lydia King: My idea was that the teeth would be easier to get without Kim noticing, and could be accepted as having definitely come from her, which would be important to a scientist.

MrDrP: I have admit that I hadn't even considered the 'Kim as the ultimate outsider' angle, though it is a valid one. I'm a fan of the John Byrne revamp of the 1980's that made Superman not a demigod who pretends to be a normal person, but a regular guy who does the Superman thing on the side, and that comes through here.

FAH3: The Fortress, as such, was mentioned several chapters ago.

MatthewC: That's one problem with my style of writing: I sometimes forget what I wrote in previous chapters. I tried to address some of your concerns here.

Thanks to: Psycho King, demon-sword, Bugleader, Visigoth29527, drakwolfstoppable, Spyke the Hedgehog, mattb3671, Triaxx2, campy and daywalkr82.

Though it hardly needs me to plug it, MrDrP has a story called 'Epic Sitch' that covers a hypothetical fourth season of the show. If you like drama take a look at it.

This chapter was tough to write. My job is partly to blame (What, seven days a week? Sure! It's not like I have a life or anything.), and partly it's that I couldn't figure out how to include everything I wanted to without rambling or jumbling stuff together. I think I got it so it works, but let me know what you think. Thanks.

Kakuichi Takahashi stood ramrod straight on the parapet of the wall that surrounded the Yamanouchi School and tried not to shiver. Like all students at Yamanouchi it was, from time to time, his honor to stand guard through the night.

In one way the exercise was pointless. Yamanouchi didn't shun modern technology. Anyone who needed proof of that had only to look in the library at the computer workstations with their high speed internet access, or at the satellite dish atop the main dormitory. A high tech perimeter surveillance system could have been installed easily enough.

But that would have defeated the purpose of the exercise, the reason it was done at all, let alone the way it was.

Guard duty taught discipline. Four hours atop a windswept wall, even in the summertime, was a chilly business. An undisciplined mind would let itself be distracted by discomfort, let its attention be drawn away from vigilance.

It also taught responsibility, as well as the danger of pride. Sensei had explained it thus: "Anyone who accepts a duty, whether it be large or small, should perform it faithfully." By which, Kakuichi had learned, meant doing even small, boring, or unpleasant tasks as well as one possibly could. If one let their pride label a task as beneath their dignity, they would likely not give it as much attention and effort as they might, and so fail.

Kakuichi felt but did not show a grin. Of course, there were more immediate reasons to be vigilant. Instructors were known to leave the school before sundown and then attempt to sneak in again after night fell. For a sentry to allow such a thing to happen would be at the least extremely embarrassing. For an older student in could mean discipline or even expulsion. Shamed sentries had even been known to commit suicide, at least in the old days.

With that thought in mind Kakuichi returned his gaze to the mountain that sloped away beneath him. The eastern sky was lightening. Soon the sun would up and his watch would be over. Behind him he could hear his fellow students at morning exercise. He wished briefly that he was among them. The activity would ward off the chill.

Then Sensei's wise words came back to him, and Kakuichi pushed thoughts of warmth from his mind.

Other thoughts soon took their place, though. Sensei was wise, that was certain. He did many things, some of which Kakuichi (and sometimes even other Masters) didn't understand at first, but none of which he considered foolish. Still, there was the matter of the gaijin girl, Kim Possible. Master Masatake had thought she was a demon. Sensei had dismissed that notion, but had also hinted that Possible wasn't what she seemed to be. Kakuichi wondered about that. He saw Possible often (that red hair was hard to miss) and had even spoken with her a time or two. It irked him somewhat that she spoke little or no Japanese, but she was pleasant enough, and even pretty, in a foreign sort of way.

She had attracted more than a few stares at first, but familiarity had whittled that down to the occasional surreptitious glance. There were rumors, though. The most widely circulated rumor was about an old prophecy. The funny thing was, no one seemed to know exactly what the old prophecy said. Kakuichi had heard a dozen different versions, none of which made a great deal of sense. The only thing they had in common was a reference to a demon. There were two that seemed (emphasis on _seemed_) to mention the other gaijin, Ron Stoppable, and Kakuichi found those two to be the most interesting, if no more plausible than the rest. He was a level headed young man, and didn't have a lot of time for superstitious nonsense.

A sound drew Kakuichi's attention. It was a crashing sound, like a tree falling, and it came from somewhere down the mountain. Another crash followed, then another. The sounds grew louder, and seemed to be coming closer. Staring intently, Kakuichi scanned the mountainside for some sign of the source of the noise.

A head appeared above a small rise. A huge head, of stone and at least five feet wide. A head in the shape of that of a demonic monkey with glowing green eyes. The thing's torso followed, equally massive. Staring in shock Kakuichi barely noticed the figure clad in ninja garb riding on the thing's shoulder. He did notice it though, as well as the scores of smaller yet similarly clad figures that swarmed along behind.

There were gongs at regular intervals along the walls, placed there for the purpose of sounding the alarm. Kakuichi ran to the nearest one and rang it.

Repeatedly.

* * *

Students and teachers reacted swiftly to the alarm. Within moments the walls of Yamanouchi swarmed with armed men and women. The gates, already shut against the night, were reinforced with additional bracing. Watch fires were kindled atop the towers that flanked the gate and stood at the corners of the walls. It was like something out of a late night movie, without the comically bad English overdubbing. 

Ron found himself atop the wall near the gate, along with Yori, Hirotaka, and Master Masatake. Below them was the familiar figure of Lord Monty Fiske, surrounded by him horde of monkey ninjas, and backed by the nightmarish figure of a demonic monkey thirty feet tall with glowing green eyes.

A sound behind him drew Ron's attention. Sensei was walking across the courtyard toward the wall, his pace dignified and unhurried. Coming in from a different direction was a bleary-eyed Kim Possible, still wearing her night shirt, having paused only to pull on a pair of green cargo pants.

Kim reached the top of the wall first. Laying a hand on Ron's shoulder as she moved beside him, she peered out over the ramparts.

"Monkey Fist," she observed redundantly.

"And his monkey ninjas," Ron rejoined.

"The monkey ninjas concern me less than that thing," Master Masatake growled, pointing at the giant stone monkey. "Powerful magic is as work here."

Sensei reached the steps at the base of the wall and began to climb. As he did so runners from other sections of the walls arrived and breathlessly made their reports to Masatake, who seemed to be in overall charge of the defense.

"What are they saying?" Kim demanded. Masatake ignored her, concentrating on the messengers. Yori spoke, translating for Kim and Ron.

"Monkey ninjas have been sighted all around the school. Their numbers are relatively few, though, and they are keeping their distance."

While Yori was talking Sensei gained the parapet and looked out at the source of all the commotion. It was then that Ron saw an expression on the old man's face he had never seen before: consternation.

Sensei said something in Japanese. Ron caught only the name of a nearby mountain - Higashidate - but whatever Sensei said seemed to startle the others.

Once again Yori came to Ron and Kim's rescue, not by translating this time, but simply by reacting in English.

"The Stone Guardian of Higashidate? That's only a myth!" Yori's eyes flicked toward the stone figure in disbelief. "Isn't it?"

"Apparently not," was all Sensei said in response.

Monkey Fist, having busied himself with giving orders to his ninja army, turned his attention to the crowd atop the walls.

"Sensei-sama, it is good to see you again," Monkey Fist said, bowing slightly from the waist.

Masatake answered gruffly, "Why have you returned to Yamanouchi, Monkey-kuso?"

Ron had no idea what Masatake meant by the last bit. It wasn't any honorific he'd ever heard, and he knew enough about Japanese culture to know that if Masatake had wanted to insult Monkey Fist he would simply have used no honorific at all. Yori tittered, though, and her brother chuckled.

Monkey Fist's eyes blazed angrily. He spat back a retort in Japanese that made Masatake go pale with his own fury.

"I have come for the Lotus Blade, fools!" Fist continued in English. "Surrender it and Ron Stoppable to me, and I will spare your school and your lives. Refuse, and you will die." Monkey Fist's ultimatum was delivered to Sensei in haughty aristocratic tones.

"We are not in the habit of throwing our friends and guests to the dubious mercies of savages," Sensei replied calmly. "Your request is denied."

Monkey Fist's face twisted. "It wasn't a request. The time for the fulfillment of the Hiei Prophecy is at hand. If you wish to see the end of this day, you will do as I command."

"What's this prophecy he's talking about?" Kim asked with quiet urgency. Monkey Fist might be insane, but he was far from being a harmless loony. Wherever he'd gotten that rock monkey, he was sure to use it, along with every other means at his disposal, to try and get what he wanted.

Sensei seemed lost in thought, for he said nothing. Yori, who stood nearby, said loudly, "Possible-san, the Hiei Prophecy says that at the seventh full moon of the seventeenth year of the achievement of peace, a demon will walk freely in Yamanouchi. The lone guardian will arise. Two wielders of the mystical monkey power will meet; one will gain the Lotus Blade and become the true master; the other will be his servant."

Ron swallowed nervously. Kim snorted. "Sounds like gibberish to me," she said dismissively. "I haven't seen any demons around, have you?" Kim directed the question at Yori, who looked away, seemingly uncomfortable. Masatake and Hirotaka did likewise.

"You are the demon!" Monkey Fist declared. "You, Kim Possible! You are a fiend in human form! I can sense it!"

"As can I," echoed Masatake, reluctantly meeting Kim's disbelieving stare.

"I am not a demon!" Kim said emphatically.

"The prophecy does not refer to a demon," Sensei said, startling everyone. "Yori and Monkey Fist have both fallen victim to the ravages of time." He turned to Kim with a slight but knowing smile. "The prophecy is old, and the language has changed since then. The original text uses the phrase 'one who is not of this world'. And strictly speaking, it could just as easily refer to Stoppable-san, since he is gaijin as well and so 'not of this world', if for 'world' you read 'Japan'."

Kim smiled back grimly. She had an idea now why people had been a bit stand-offish to her at first. If Ron could sense that she wasn't human, it wasn't such a surprise that others with similar talents could as well. She nodded at Sensei, then turned to Monkey Fist.

"Sounds like your prophecy is whacked, Fist."

"That old fool is twisting its words!" Fist shrieked, spittle flying from his mouth. "All the pieces are in place! My destiny is at hand!"

"Fine, your destiny is at hand," Ron jeered. "I guess that means mine is, too." He tried to sound confident, but his stomach was tying itself in knots, and it was all he could do to keep from trembling. Sensei's words echoed in his mind, 'Sometimes a warrior must do what is necessary, no matter how unpleasant it is.' Ron sniffed. Not too different from what he'd been doing since he started going on missions with Kim. He'd often been scared out of his wits, but he'd never let that stop him before. Stepping back, he raised his hand. Moments later the hilt of the Lotus Blade slapped against his open palm.

"You want this, Fiske?" Ron called. "Well, why don't I come down there, and we'll see if you can take it from me?"

"Ron, are you...?" Kim began, but Ron cut her off with a smile.

"Not really," he admitted with a grin, "But I figure if I can keep Monkey-boy busy while you deal with the walking rock pile, Yori, Hirotaka and the others can hold off the monkey ninjas."

"I'll do my best," Kim pledged with a smile. She jerked her head toward Monkey Fist. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Ron agreed, and together the two of them leapt over the ramparts.

Fist turned and called to the Stone Guardian, "You! Kill Kim Possible. But Stoppable is mine."

The Guardian's head nodded once. It was carrying a crudely carved representation of a sword half its own height in length. As its designated foe approached, the Guardian raised the weapon to a ready position.

Ron turned his attention to Monkey Fist. The Lotus Blade was like an extension of his hands as he settled into a en guard position, the tip of the blade pointed toward Monkey Fist's throat. Monkey Fist bared his teeth in a predatory grin, even as he drew his own blade from its sheath.

"You've been practicing, Stoppable," Fist observed, matching Ron's stance.

"A bit," Ron admitted.

"You're also remarkably calm for a man who's best and only friend is about to be crushed to goo," Fist added, baiting his foe.

Ron just grinned. "Do demons crush easily?" he jibed mockingly.

"We're about to find out," Fist snarled, launching a probing thrust toward Ron's face. Ron took a step back. A slight movement of his own sword moved Monkey Fist's attack off center, spoiling it, and Fist drew back.

* * *

Kim approached the Guardian cautiously. As far as she could tell it was plain old rock. Nothing she could detect seemed responsible for animating it. It watched her come, its movement slow and ponderous, its glowing eyes reminding her uncomfortably of Kryptonite. She felt no weakness, though, so whatever the eyes were made of, she wouldn't have to worry about the debilitating effects of pieces of her homeworld. Kim leapt up onto a boulder near the thing, close enough that it took a swing at her. She dodged it easily enough, but the Guardian's blow shattered the rock she'd been standing on. A few repetitions of the exercise led Kim to conclude that however powerful the Guardian was, it was slow and somewhat clumsy. With that in mind Kim started running, planning on delivering a kick to the thing's face. As she launched herself, the Guardian moved suddenly, quick as lightning, the sword sweeping her out of the air and sending her hurtling toward the canyon below the school. She bounced once on the rocky slope, then disappeared into the depths. 

"Almost too easy," Monkey Fist said gleefully. Ron never took his eyes off the man.

"I hate to disappoint you, Fist, but Kim's fine. All that did was make her angry."

Monkey Fist blinked. Stoppable hadn't questioned what had happened, nor had he showed the slightest concern for Possible. Something had changed. This wasn't the hapless, easily distracted buffoon he remembered. Stoppable was calm and confident. Monkey Fist felt a twinge of worry.

Ron raised the Lotus Blade and struck at Monkey Fist's head. Fist parried, then counter-attacked.

"Kim's already on her way back," Ron announced as the two men circled, their weapons clanging together as the fighters took each others measure.

"You can't possibly know that," Monkey Fist accused. "You're lying."

"Dude, I can sense it. She's almost to the top," Ron said confidently.

Monkey Fist dropped back and, almost against his will, turned his gaze to the edge of the cliff. His jaw dropped as a familiar redhead came sailing up over the brink, her face like a thundercloud.

Kim hit the ground running. She sometimes raced Ron, her on foot, him on his scooter. His new one had a top speed of sixty miles and hour, and even with the throttle wide open he could barely outrun her. Covering twenty feet with every stride, Kim lowered her head and charged the Guardian.

"It's impossible," Monkey Fist gaped in shock.

"Dude, check her name," Ron suggested sarcastically. "And while you're at it, don't drop your guard during a fight!"

After his first trip to Yamanouchi Ron had joined a kendo club in Middleton. He hadn't applied himself as zealously as some of his fellow students did, but he enjoyed the lessons and had gained some skill. Evaluating his enemy, Ron decided that the sword wasn't Monkey Fist's best weapon. In fact, the two of them seemed evenly matched. Which meant it was time to knuckle down and get serious about ending the fight. A real swordfight was usually over quickly, Ron knew, because the first mistake one combatant made was usually the second to last event in the contest.

Ron's opportunity came when Kim threw a punch at the Guardian's jaw that almost took its head off. Monkey Fist cried out in disbelief, momentarily forgetting Ron.

The Lotus Blade flashed.

Monkey Fist screamed.

Ron stared down at the Englishman, who was on his knees clutching at the stump of his right wrist. The sight of the wound made Ron's gorge rise, but he kept his face cold. The tip of the Lotus Blade slipped under Monkey Fist's chin and lifted it.

"This fight is over," was all Ron said.

* * *

"So the whole prophecy was a crock?" Kim asked. She and Ron were seated with Sensei at the low table in his private quarters while Yori served them tea. It wasn't a Tea Ceremony per se: no ritual formalities were involved, and Yori was taking part in the conversation. 

"That depends on how you choose to interpret it," Sensei answered enigmatically. "The time reference is accurate at least."

"How so?" Ron wondered.

Sensei smiled. "The seventh full moon of the seventeenth year of the achievement of peace _is_ today."

"I get the full moon, but the rest?"

"It is the seventeenth year of the reign of His Imperial Majesty Akihito," Yori explained, "His reign is known in Japan as _heisei_, which means 'achievement of peace'."

"Do you really think a guy who lived seven hundred years ago was able to foresee what would happen today?" Kim asked.

Sensei shrugged. "Who can say? The prophecy is vague, as such things usually are. With a little work we can fit it to what happened today. Does that mean it refers to today? Who knows?"

"What about Monkey Fist?" Ron asked, changing the subject.

"Tomorrow the police will come for him. Your involvement will not be mentioned."

"Won't he talk? When he tells the police how he lost his hand, won't I get arrested?" Ron persisted.

Sensei smiled again. "Monkey Fist is mad, of course, and so anything he says will be regarded skeptically. As for the police, I am confident they will accept our word without question."

Ron sat back, a vaguely unsettled feeling in his belly. How much power and influence did Yamanouchi, and by extension Sensei, have in Japan? It had to be a lot, if what Sensei said was true. And it did seem true. Ron sensed no deception from Sensei, or Yori. More importantly, he trusted both of them.

* * *

Sensei regarded Ron and Kim with carefully veiled curiosity. Ron had proved himself to have the makings of a warrior both skilled and wise. Watching from the walls, sensei had seen that Ron had ample opportunity to strike a fatal blow, but had chosen the 'pacifistic' wrist strike instead. Ron's compassion even for deadly enemies might get him killed eventually, but somehow Sensei doubted that would ever come to pass. 

Part of the reason was seated next to him, in the form of the strange girl from another world, Kim Possible. He and everyone else on the wall had watched her plummet into the canyon to what all onlookers were sure was her doom. Then they had watched as she reappeared, unharmed, and proceeded to demolish the Higashidate Guardian with no weapon but her bare fists. Sensei considered her. She was difficult to 'read', partly because of the brilliance of her aura, and partly because of her strange thought processes. By studying her expressions and comparing them to what he sensed in her mind Sensei had managed to puzzle out a basic understanding of Kim's mind, but it's strangeness left him unable to gleam much beyond surface feelings. The inner recesses of her conscience were hidden from him, so he couldn't say whether she was trustworthy or not. But Stoppable-san did trust her, completely. That would have to be enough for now. Nor could Sensei shake the feeling that something more than mere greatness awaited, not the both of them, but the two of them.

* * *

"Here we are," Ron announced. Kim looked up. He had told her about the hot spring near the school, and suggested it when she complained of pains from her fight with the Guardian. The spring was a large pool whose surface was shrouded with steam. 

"The coolest water is at this end," Ron said, gesturing. Kim stripped off her shirt and pants, revealing a two-piece swimsuit. Ron doffed his outer garments as well.

"The vent is at the far end, and it's boiling hot, so be careful," Ron cautioned as he waded into the water.

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Kim said with a grin, "But thanks for the warning."

Finding a suitably warm location Kim relaxed, letting the heat soothe her aching body. The water smelled faintly of sulfur, though not unpleasantly so, and it seemed to provide more buoyancy too. Ron was floating easily, a happy grin on his face. Rufus, who didn't much like swimming, floated confidently as well, chirping and whistling as he splashed around.

After a while Ron said, "That's a new suit, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Kim answered lazily. "I didn't want it at first, but Monique talked me into it."

"Didn't want it? Why not?"

"I thought it was on the skimpy side," Kim explained.

"It's not so skimpy," Ron countered. Kim opened an eye and looked at him. "I mean," he added hastily, "It's not like it's one of Bonnie's string bikinis or anything."

"True," Kim allowed, closing her eye again.

"I like it," Ron added.

Kim opened her eyes again.

* * *

Shego put down the book she was reading, stood up, and stretched. The automatic gene sequencers had been chewing on the samples from Kim's baby teeth for several hours. A complete sequencing of Kim's DNA would take several days, but there were likely to be some preliminary results by now. Strolling into the lab Shego headed for the nearest machine. A henchman/lab technician who was working on another project looked up when she entered the room, nodded in recognition, and went back to his own work. 

Shego moved the mouse to bring the sequencer's monitor to life. It came up to the words 'No Human DNA Found'. Shego bit off a growl. Sample one was no good. Fine. She hadn't had the highest of hopes for this scheme of Drakken's anyway. Shego went to the next machine.

Same result.

Despite her doubts about the merits of the whole 'baby teeth' plan, her blood pressure rose, and she ground her teeth. On to the third machine.

'No Human DNA Found'.

"Aaarrrggghhh!" Shego roared, putting a flaming fist through the offending screen. The henchman jumped up, startled, and hurriedly left the lab. In a rage Shego tore the sequencer's monitor off and hurtled it across the lab.

"Stupid, useless machines!"

Both her hands blazed up with green fire. Shego was about to torch the whole lab when Drakken came rushing in.

"Sheila, what's the matter?" he demanded anxiously.

"What's the matter? What's the matter? I'll tell you what's the matter, Lipsky!" Shego snarled, turning toward him, hands still wreathed in fire. "We wasted fifty thousand dollars and three hours of my time analyzing teeth with no DNA in them?"

"No DNA?" Drakken repeated disappointedly.

"Look at the damn monitors, Lipsky! No human DNA fou-" Shego stopped suddenly. Her hands winked out.

"Sheila?" Drakken squeaked fearfully. Shego stopping in mid-sentence was a turn of events almost always ended badly...for him.

"I'm sorry, Drew," Shego apologized absently. "I got so angry I wasn't thinking." She went to one of the undamaged machines. "You see," she explained, "If there was no DNA, the monitor would say 'No DNA Found'. But it doesn't say that."

Drakken edged forward, curiosity overcoming his sense of self-preservation.

"What kind of DNA would you find in a little girl's teeth except human DNA?" he asked cautiously.

"Let's find out," Shego suggested, moving the mouse. Stylized images of molecules began to appear.

Shego's eyes widened.

Drakken's jaw went slack.

For a time Dr. Drakken and Shego, international super villains, faded into the background.

In their places reappeared Andrew Lipsky and Sheila Gogh, doctors of genetics and biochemistry, respectively, the first human beings to ever see even a partial representation of a Kryptonian DNA molecule.


	12. Chapter 12

mattb3671: Nope, I didn't leave anything out. What I was trying to say was that Sensei believed that greatest awaited Kim and Ron as a team, not as individuals.

continental-line: Thanks for the vote of confidence, Bill.

MatthewC: I hadn't thought about the aura thing, but it makes sense in hindsight. As to humor, I can work in a comic moment now and then, but the funny stuff isn't really my strong suit. I'll see what I can do in the future, though.

MrDrP: Yeah, the MF confront, like Kim's fall into the canyon, was something I wanted to show, but it wasn't the main point of the chapter. Glad you liked the ending.

Visigoth29527: Shego's thoughts in this chapter should please you.

Thanks to: Bobboky, noveler00, scottgrubb, Classic Cowboy/daywalkr82, demon-sword, GargoyleSama, Triaxx2, The Fourthman, Spyke the Hedgehog, captainkodak1, campy, Cold-Chaos, FAH3, Wanderer3, and bdburns7289

Early September

Kim sat down at a table in the library. In theory she was there to do research for a paper she had to write for Government class, but in practice she was looking through a stack of fashion magazines while doodling in her notebook. She was busily sketching when a shadow moved across the table and a familiar figure deposited itself in the seat opposite her.

"Monique!" Kim exclaimed. Dark-haired, dark-skinned Monique Jenkins grinned toothily at her.

"Hello, fellow senior!" Monique replied by way of greeting.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Kim grinned back.

"Oh, I don't know,' Monique said, her voice playfully snooty. "The first day was kinda weird, but I've gotten used to it."

Kim just smiled. Monique had a point. The first time Kim had sat down at the senior table for lunch, she'd felt a bit of excitement, but only a bit. It had been slightly disappointing, in a way, but the senior table had turned out to be just another table. There was nothing at all special about it, and sitting there certainly didn't make the cafeteria food taste any better. Saving the world on a semi-regular basis probably had something to do with it, but more likely it was just a case of the old adage 'you desire that which you cannot have' proving itself.

"Yeah," Kim said aloud, "Though what I like most is not having to put up with Bonnie 'The Bitch' Rockwaller any more." That _was_ nice. Bonnie was attending Upperton Community College, working on raising her GPA before heading off to one of the state universities. The fact that she was now a 'college woman' as opposed to a 'high school girl' had made Bonnie even more unbearably snotty and mean, if the rumors were true, but on the upside, Bonnie hadn't come around Middleton High since the semester started. Kim had seen Bonnie in the mall a few times, but that was it.

"So what are you working on?" Monique changed the subject, leaning forward to look at Kim's notebook.

Kim's cheeks colored slightly, but she turned the book around and flipped a few pages.

"I'm thinking of getting some new mission clothes," Kim explained. "My regular ones get torn up a lot, especially my pants, since they're so loose. I figured I'd take a crack at designing some, but I find that drawing isn't one of my talents."

Monique didn't respond to the last bit, instead focusing her attention on the sketches Kim had made. There were a half dozen of them in various stages of completion. Two of them closely resembled Kim's current mission clothes, except that the pants were skin tight and her top now covered her midriff. The far bigger changes were the colors. Black, brown and olive had given way to red, blue and yellow.

"What's the deal with the primary colors?" Monique asked, looking up at Kim. One of the sketches was red with blue trim, while the other was blue with red trim. Both worked, but the blue one was probably a better choice, since it would go better with Kim's red hair.

"And what's this 'S' on the chest?"

"That's an old family symbol," Kim answered cryptically. Monique raised an eyebrow.

"Possible, or O'Rourke?" she asked.

"El, actually," Kim supplied.

"Elle?" Monique repeated. "How far back and on which side are they?"

"That's a long story, Monique," Kim evaded. "Tell you what, though..." Kim hesitated. "You work tonight?"

Monique nodded. "Four to eight."

"Stop by my place after and I'll give you the full dish, how's that sound?" Kim proposed.

"Ok, I guess I can wait that long," Monique grinned.

"Anyway," Kim moved on, "Since you're here, maybe you could tidy things up a bit, maybe make some improvements?" Monique dreamed of being a fashion designer, and was well on her way, having already won a couple of local design contests.

Monique cocked an eye at Kim. "You want me to make it, too?"

"Well, that might not be possible," Kim answered. At the slight scowl that flickered across Monique's features Kim dug in her backpack and produced a swatch of red cloth. "This is what I'm going to have it, or rather them, made out of," Kim explained. As Monique took the cloth and began to examine it, Kim went on. "It's a super-tough fabric my Dad got from a research facility out East. It's resists tearing, cutting and puncturing; it's fire and acid resistant; it's, well, it's really, really durable. It's also really hard to work with. You need a special machine to cut it, and another machine to join the seams. I could call in some favors to get them out here, if you want to try..."

"Oh, I want to try all right," Monique confirmed excitedly. She was dragging her nails file across the swatch of red cloth, trying to make an impression on it and failing.

"For the technical challenge?" Kim wondered.

"A little," Monique admitted, "But more because I'll be able to brag that the world famous Kim Possible wears Monique Jenkins originals," she finished with an impish grin.

"Oh, so it's an endorsement deal you want," Kim teased. "I was just going to pay you," she sighed.

"You can do that too if you want," Monique giggled. Her face went serious then. "How much does this stuff cost?"

"Five thousand dollars a yard," Kim answered bluntly.

"F-f-fi-five THOUSAND dollars a YARD?" Monique yelped.

"And I'm getting it at cost, too," Kim nodded. "But then, it's still experimental. If and when they start mass producing it the price is sure to come down."

"Well then," Monique said, swallowing, "I'll work out the final pattern in other cloth, then take it apart and use the pieces as the pattern for cutting this stuff."

Kim nodded. Monique was mostly talking to herself. Her plan made good sense though. "I'll tell my Dad to arrange for the cutting and joining machines to be sent to the space center. That'll probably take a few weeks, and you'll have to go there to use them..."

"Not a problem," Monique assured her with a shake of her head. "I'll get started on refining your designs tonight, and maybe cook up a few of my own." Monique flipped to one of the sketches in the middle pages of the ones Kim had been doodling on. The top was a long sleeved cropped shirt like her normal mission clothes, but blue, with the 'S' prominently center-front. Snug red boots that came up to just below the knee contrasted with a blue pleated skirt that reached down only to mid-thigh. Topping the ensemble off was a red cape, of all things.

"What is this?" Monique demanded as Kim's cheeks went red.

"Just a little flight of fancy," Kim blushed.

"Looks like something out of a comic book," Monique snorted. Then, giving Kim a severe look: "No capes!"

Mid September

Shego yawned and stretched. A glance at the clock told her it was nearly midnight.

"I gotta get some sleep," she muttered to herself. Tomorrow was a big day. Dr. Drakken had finally developed a version of Jack Hench's synthodrone technology that satisfied him, and they were going to begin a series of field tests to see if they would measure up to expectations. Shego was too experienced to expect the 'drones to perform flawlessly: that almost never happened the first time out of the gate. Still, the tests they'd run in the lab had been promising. Externally, the drones were indistinguishable from normal humans. They could even be given individual features, though Drakken had seen no need for that yet. All synthodrones were expendable, but these were even more so than usual, so there was no point in wasting the time and effort.

Shego started closing down the terminal she was working at. She'd spent several hours this day studying the puzzle of the DNA they'd recovered from Possible's teeth. It was fascinating stuff, wherever it had come from. Unlike human (and all other earthly life) DNA, which used the same four nucleotides to build its structure, Possible's DNA used _six_, only two of which resembled Earthly amino acids closely enough to called by the same name. The others were like nothing Shego had ever heard of, let alone seen. And she had seen some weird stuff. Amino acids could be found almost everywhere: in thermal vents in the ocean depths, at the bottom of perpetually frozen Antarctic lakes, even in the rocks miles beneath Earth's crust. They had been found in meteors and comets. The _Ares_ astronauts, midway through their year and a half stay on Mars, had found amino acids in ice caves there, and the _Zeus Pathfinder _probes, scouting the Galilean moons of Jupiter in advance of the _Zeus_ manned mission, had found amino acids there.

So the notion that Kim's DNA, and by extension Kim herself, wasn't from Earth originally wasn't so hard for Shego to accept. In fact, it was almost a no-brainer given what Kimmie could do. The problem was that the stuff was like a siren song, drawing her and Drakken away from more immediate priorities. Mapping Kim's genome would be worth a Nobel Prize all by itself. Proper research into the structure and mechanics of the molecule itself; discovering how the genes expressed themselves; comparing and contrasting it to human DNA: each would be a life's work, but unfortunately they couldn't spare the time. Nor did they care to farm the work out to henchmen the way they did other projects. By unspoken agreement, the mystery of Kim's DNA belonged to her and Drakken alone.

Shego padded down a hallway in the residential part of the lair, deep in thought. She was headed for her quarters but still turning over the problem of Kim Possible in her mind. If Kim really was an extraterrestrial, then the 'official' story of her birth was a lie. Or was it? The public record said that Kim had been born at a campsite at Lake Middleton when a meteor shower frightened her pregnant mother into labor. Was there a real connection? Had she come along with the meteors? Or perhaps the other way around? If so, could the meteors give a clue as to her point of origin?.

Shego reached her quarters almost without realizing it, opening the door on autopilot, heading for her private computer terminal even as she kicked off her boots and slipped out of her jumpsuit. She knew she really should get right into bed, but she also didn't want to abandon a promising train of thought. It was one of the downsides of being brilliant, she knew. You couldn't just stop thinking, no matter how much you might want or need to.

Fingers alternated between tapping keys and moving the mouse. Drakken maintained an extensive database on Kimmie and her friends and family and was always adding to it. Shego sometimes wondered why Drakken felt it necessary to have Kim's second grade report card, for example, but in general she agreed that there really was no such thing as too much information.

Working quickly Shego set her search parameters: Kim Possible and meteors. In moments the screen came up with a number of entries. Shego skimmed through them quickly. Two caught her eye and she read them carefully. One was an official government report about the meteor shower itself . Apparently the meteors had come in on an usual trajectory, and there hadn't been a lot of them, which led the government scientists who studied the shower to conclude that it had been a one time event involving material from outside the solar system. Interesting.

The second was a paper published by the Princess' very own Daddy, about a 'rocky mineral of meteoric origin'. According to Dr. Possible, the stone had been found at Lake Middleton and was possibly related to the so called 'Great Middleton Meteor Shower'. Inorganic chemistry wasn't Shego's strongest skill set, so she didn't really understand most of the technical aspects of the paper, but that hardly mattered. She made a note to tell Drakken about it, and maybe see if one of their coven of hired scientists could interpret the paper for them.

Shego was about to log off when she noticed a link to a related article at the bottom of the page. A click of the mouse brought up a newspaper story.

"Teen claims mutation by meteorite," Shego read aloud. "A teenager charged with kidnapping, terrorism and assault with intent to cause bodily harm is claiming he was mutated by a small green stone he found while swimming in Lake Middleton. In a statement issued by his lawyers, Gilbert Norris says the stone, which later proved to be both mildly radioactive, and of meteoric origin, is the cause of his physical mutation, with led directly to his becoming mentally ill..." Shego read the last with a sneer. "Claiming you aren't guilty because you're whacked in the head, huh?" Her words dripped with contempt. If you were going to do the whole evil thing, you should be proud of it. This Gill person was clearly a poser. But wait. What was this? Possible hadn't been the one to take Gill down? The sidekick had had to do it, because Kimmie _fainted_? Shego could hardly believe that.

A few more clicks brought up the original news reports. Sure enough, Kim had fainted. According to one of her fellow cheerleaders, who witnessed the whole thing, Kim had headed straight for Gill, only to stumble over her own feet and collapse.

Shego sat back, thinking. According to the articles, Gill had been wearing the stone as a necklace at the time of the confrontation. Possible had fallen down as she approached Gill, but had had recovered with no lasting ill effects. Had the stone...? Nah. It couldn't be. Low level radiation didn't cause immediate debilitating effects. Not in humans anyway. But if Kimmie _wasn't _human, and the rock came from the same place she did...

Shego thought her notion was pretty far fetched, but decided to look into it anyway.

Late September

Monique loved The Fabric, as she'd come to call it. True, it was frighteningly expensive, but Kim had allowed enough extra material for Monique to practice with, knowing that it was necessary to do so. In practicing Monique had learned how to cut and join pieces of The Fabric, and more besides. Officially designated Project AN2598/3 by the company that had developed it, The Fabric was more versatile than Monique had imagined was possible. The seaming machine also had a texture manipulation function that could alter The Fabric until it was as soft and light as thin silk, or as tough and stiff as leather, or anything in between. That had been a terrific boon, and Monique was making full use of it. The design Kim had finally settled on had initially been a simple body stocking, but upon Monique's discovery of the texturing ability, the design had been altered to more closely resemble boots, trousers and jacket, both in look and feel, while still remaining thin, light, and close fitting. Already Monique was imagining the things she'd be able to do with The Fabric, if and when it ever became commercially available. Visions of the high-end clothing market swirled through her head, even as the seamer went busily about its work, attaching the stylized red-on-yellow 'S' to the front of the outfit's top.

Early October

"Now?" Kim's voice asked, floating down from the top of the stairs.

"Now," Monique commanded from where she stood at the base of the stairs, slightly off to one side.

Gathered in the living room of the Possible home, where they would have a good view of the stairs, were Kim's 'rents and brothers. Ron was there of course, with his Mom and Dad, along with Wade Load, who had left his room for the first time in ages a few weeks previously during Team Possible's run-in with Team_ Impossible_, and his parents. Monique's own mother and father were in attendance too, at Kim's insistence. The onlookers were seated on couches and chairs, watching expectantly.

It was a Saturday, just before lunchtime. Monique had arrived an hour earlier, a garment bag slung over her shoulder. Kim had practically dragged Monique up to her room, giddy with excitement.

* * *

"Well," Monique had ordered, "Don't just stand there, get undressed!" 

Kim obeyed, stripping down to her underwear while Monique opened the bag and pulled out the various pieces of Kim's new mission togs.

"Bottoms first," Monique suggested, handing Kim the item in question. Kim gazed at them curiously for a few moments, then started pulling them on. The legs, which had seemed a bit on the small size to her, amazed her by stretching like spandex, while having the feel and texture of a weird hybrid of silk and denim. When they were on Kim studied the result in her mirror. The bottoms were as snug fitting as any pair of tights she had ever worn, clinging to every curve, but they looked (and to an extent felt) like trousers. They were blue, with red piping down the outsides of the legs, and Kim turned from side to side and then around, looking over her shoulder to check out the view from behind.

"I'm liking it, Monique," she smiled finally. Monique grinned.

"Now for the top," she announced, pausing only to tell Kim to take off her bra, as the top had one built in so it wouldn't show through. Kim obeyed, and was pleased with the result. The top had an identical look and feel, with the red piping running down the arms, and clung just as closely. The only exception was the chest area. The bra Monique had built in provided adequate support, and it, along with the 'S' symbol, kept the top from looking _completely _painted on.

Finally Monique produced the boots, glovesand utility belt she'd made. All were red, andresembled another weird hybrid, a canvas/leather cross.

"The belt has pouches for your various gadgets, per the specs Wade gave me," Monique explained, "A holster for your grapple gun, and an attachment point for your Kimmunicator."

"Monique, this is totally spankin'," Kim gushed when they were done.

"You're welcome, Kim," Monique said, bowing grandly.

* * *

"Presenting Kim Possible and her hot new action ensemble from Monique Jenkins Designs," Monique proclaimed as Kim descended the stairs. Kim blushed, even more so as the audience burst out in applause. Her folks were there, along with Ron's and Monique's. Jim, Tim and Ron rounded out the crowd, the Tweebs looking a bit jealous, Ron just staring wide eyed. Kim suppressed a giggle and did a slow pirouette so he could get a good look. 

"It's lovely, Monique," Kim's mom gushed, examining the outfit closely. Similar comments came from Mrs. Stoppable and Monique's mom, who was seeing her daughter's handiwork for the first time. Her dad, Kim noted, looked considerably less enthused than his counterparts, and Kim could guess why: her new outfit, while it covered everything, did quite a bit less to hide her assets, as it were.

There was only one other person whose opinion Kim really wanted to hear, and she turned to him with a smile.

"Well, Ron, what do you think?"

Ron smiled, a touch nervously she thought, though she could understand his apprehension. The two of them had talked, and had decided that Kim's new outfit wasn't the only thing that would be revealed this day.

Ron crossed to were Kim stood, his eyes roaming blatantly over every inch of her, his head nodding in approval.

"You are smokin' hot in that outfit, K.P.," he judged, placing his hands on her hips and drawing her in. Kim couldn't help but notice the sharp intakes of breath of the people around them, especially her father, as she lifted her face toward Ron's, lips parting to receive his as he kissed her. Then, as suddenly as it had turned on, her super hearing shut itself off, and it was well it did. Otherwise the shrieks of horror and disgust her brothers let loose might have deafened her.


	13. Chapter 13

_JPMod: Why did I skip over the 'falling in love' part? A couple of reasons. First, I've done that (Moods, Moods2, Snowbound) and I didn't want to return to ground I've already covered. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to make it fresh and interesting. Second, the relationship between Kim and Ron isn't the main point of this story. Kim's journey toward superhero status has that honor._

_demon-sword: The events of_ So The Drama_ won't be happening in this version of reality, so: Neither._

_Triaxx2: No intentional Bab5 references. I'm not a fan, and have only seen the movie 'Call to Arms', so we'll have to chalk any similarity up to coincidence._

_DominusExMachina: Fanfiction doesn't allow links in reviews, so I can't answer your question. Email them to me instead._

_Thanks to: Classic Cowboy, daywalkr82, RamaFan, MatthewC, FAH3, scottgrubb, campy, MrDrP, noveler00, Visigoth29527, Cold-Chaos, Ryan Rodriguez, mattb3671, Lydia King, Bobboky and continental-line._

Kim sat cross-legged on the floor of her room, studying her cards carefully. Seated to her right were Ron and Rufus. Ron was staring somewhat blankly at his own cards while constantly rearranging their order. Rufus was using a gadget Wade had built for him to manipulate his own cards, which were held by a pair of mechanical hands that Rufus controlled with his forepaws. A tiny virtual reality helmet allowed the naked mole rat to 'see' what he was doing while putting his opponents at a scale identical to his own. Opposite Kim was Wade himself, or rather, the Wade-bot that he had sent to provide a physical presence. Wade was leaving his room more and more often, but he still preferred the comfort of its four walls. Kim had long since accepted that reclusiveness was just a part of Wade's personality, and didn't let it bother her anymore. Besides, the Wade-bot's sensors let him see and hear what was going on almost well as if he had really been there anyway, and the screen and speakers let the others see and hear him, so he _was _there, in a sense.

To Kim's left were Jim and Tim, sitting still for once. The game was theirs, a sort of cross between role-playing and strategy that pitted players against each other. The cards were supplemented by a board around which the players had to move, always trying to work inward to get to the center. The Tweebs had received the game from Nana Possible for Christmas, and had hounded Kim and Ron relentlessly until they agreed to play it. And, Kim had to admit, the game was fun, once they had mastered the rules.

"Hicka-bicka-boo?" Kim heard Jim ask. He spoke in a barely audible whisper, but of course, Kim heard him clearly.

"Hoo-sha," Tim replied.

Kim shot the two an icy glare. "Remember how the two of you agreed there wouldn't be any cheating?" she demanded.

"Cheating?" Jim and Tim asked, feigning innocence.

"Cheating," Kim repeated levelly, "As in, talking in that secret language of yours."

"Lousy super-hearing," the Tweebs grumbled, frowning.

Kim hid a smile. Jim and Tim had been adamant about their big sister not using her alien super-powers to gain an advantage. That Ron could have cheated using the mystical monkey power apparently hadn't occurred to them. That Ron _had_ cheated, and continued to do so, had gone unnoticed by all but Kim. Of course, the fact that Ron had only won one game so far made his cheating somewhat irrelevant. Kim had a single victory under her belt as well. Rufus had two, but it was Wade who had proven to be the true master of the game, and it was against him that Jim and Tim were conspiring. Smart as the Tweebs were (and Kim knew they were far more intelligent than she was, though she would never admit that fact where anyone could hear it) they weren't quite in Wade's league.

It was the day before New Year's Eve, and a snow storm was pounding the Middleton area. It wasn't bad enough to cause cancellations, and of course, school was out until the first Monday in January, but it was enough to keep most folks indoors. Kim glanced out her window at the swirling flakes. She and Ron had plans to go sledding later, even though at eighteen years of age they had trouble finding sleds big enough for them any more. There was a nice hill not too far away where they had spent many a winter day since they'd met in pre-K all those years ago. The suicidally steep and long slope had shortened and shallowed over the years, but it was still fun to ride down. And of course, it allowed for some discreet snuggling away from the watchful eyes of her father.

Kim's eyes moved to Ron, and she did smile. He was totally intent on the game, part of the childlike aspect of his personality that sometimes drove her to distraction, but which normally kept her grounded, and lately she found quite adorable. It was funny, really, how you could know someone for so long and see them as nothing more than a friend, and then one day realize that that person was far more than 'just a friend'. Kim's father was still getting used to the change, which had come more or less as a complete surprise to him. He'd overreacted, at least in Kim's estimation, laying down a draconian set of 'dating' rules to replace the 'best friends' rules that had been in effect for so long, much to her and Ron's annoyance. Kim's mom had gone to work on him at once, and he was softening his stance, but he still wouldn't let them be alone if he could help it, and certainly not behind a closed door. So if a romp in the snow was what it took to get some cuddling and kissing, so be it. She...

'Whoa!" Wade exclaimed suddenly as an alarm went off behind him.

"What's the sitch, Wade?" Kim demanded, pushing all thoughts of fun and games to the back of her mind.

"Just got a hit on the site from the Mount Middleton ski resort," Wade explained. "There's been an earthquake and avalanche, maybe even a landslide. Some of their chairlifts have been damaged, and there are people trapped..."

"We're on it," Kim said grimly, rising to her feet. "Ron, mission clothes."

* * *

"I'm Bonnie Rockwaller, coming to you live from the Mount Middleton ski area, where and earthquake and avalanche have wreaked havoc on a peaceful winter afternoon." Bonnie managed to get the words out without stammering, for which she was immensely grateful. She was at the resort doing a puff piece for the Middleton TV station, as part of a two week internship while Upperton Community College was on it's winter break. At least, she was _supposed_ to be doing a puff piece. The earthquake had changed that in a heartbeat. Now she was the eyes and ears of The Public, doing hard news because there was no-one else around to handle the job. Fortunately the station's senior producer was on the other end of her earpiece, feeding her advice and encouragement in equal doses. She'd already done a 'breaking news' bit, where she gave the basics of what had happened. Now the station was back to her, live, with the regular news anchor waiting to pummel her with questions she desperately hoped she'd be able to answer coherently. 

Bonnie launched into a recap of what had happened, doing a voiceover as the station replayed the tape they had shot earlier, the one that showed the quake, then describing the scene as her cameraman panned across the slopes above the ski lodge.

"Already, rescue units have begun arriving, but we've received word that snow and ice on the access road are hindering the arrival of much needed assistance," Bonnie said when the camera returned to her.

"The quake toppled at least some of the towers supporting the chairlifts, and an unknown number of people may have been buried in the avalanche. The ski lodge itself has been damaged, though how severely we can't say just yet. Resort employees are beginning to organize search parties and..." Bonnie hesitated, her head cocking to listen.

"Wait. I hear a helicopter approaching. Maybe it's a med-evac flight. Let's see if we can..." Bonnie turned, eyes searching the snow filled sky.

"There it is!" she exclaimed. The cameraman zoomed in on the chopper.

"It's a Middleton Police helicopter," he informed Bonnie, who repeated that fact of the viewers.

Bonnie watched as the chopper swooped down to hover over the resort. A figure in dark clothing exited the chopper and descended to the ground via cable. Snow goggles and a hood of some sort kept the new arrival's identity a mystery, but only for a moment. The puzzle was solved when a second figure, clad in a blue and red body suit with a mane of red hair that whipped in the wind, exited the chopper. This one disdained the use of a drop line, and simply jumped to the ground...a distance of only a hundred feet or so.

"Kim Possible," Bonnie stammered. "But, er, ah, Team Possible has just arrived on the scene," she began awkwardly, but finished forcefully. Bonnie found that her long standing loathing of Kim Possible and her loser sidekick were overawed, at least temporarily, by burning curiosity. How the heck had she managed that jump? And what was she wearing? Determined to get answers to both questions Bonnie gestured to her cameraman.

"Follow me."

* * *

Kim had donned a combination earpiece/microphone and plugged it into her Kimmunicator just before exiting the helicopter, along with goggles equipped with a heads-up display. The gear would allow Wade to feed information to her and Ron in graphical form, as well as guide them to areas that they needed to get to. 

"I've pulled up a topographical map of the resort area," Wade's voice crackled in Kim's ear, even as her goggles lit up with an overhead view that swung around and down into a 3D representation of Mount Middleton and it's environs. "These are the resort's chairlifts." A dozen green lines popped into existence of the map. "At least four of them have been damaged to one degree or another, but this one," the line representing the lift in question turned red, "has at least three support towers down or in danger of going over, and a lot of people stuck in their lift chairs."

"Where are the other damaged lifts?" Kim demanded. The lines on either side of the red one turned orange.

"Well, at least they're in one area," Ron observed. "Makes our job a little easier."

"Let's get started then, shall we?" Kim invited.

Two of the damaged chairlifts departed the bases of their respective sky runs from the same building. While Kim headed for the heavily damaged one a little farther on, Ron turned aside. Tapping into the mystical monkey power he sprang on to a low wall and from there to the roof of the lift shed.

"Rufus!"

Ron felt Rufus slither out of the pocket he'd been riding in and make his way to Ron's right shoulder.

"Hnk-ha?" Rufus asked. He was wearing a tiny insulated, heated suit of Wade's design, an absolute necessity for a small hairless rodent facing the chill of a Colorado winter.

"I'm going to head up the cable. I'll lower people to the ground as I go," Ron explained. "You scout ahead and let me knowwho needs immediate attention and who can wait a bit, okay buddy?"

"Ho-kay!" Rufus chirped, tossing off a salute before scampering up the thick cable of the chairlift.

Ron looked up the mountain, following the cable with his eye. Some people had already been rescued, while others had been close enough to the ground to jump to safety. A fair number of chairs were still occupied though, which meant he'd have plenty to do. Closing his eyes Ron took a deep breath, held it in, and let it out slowly. With it he tried to let out any fear or anxiety he was feeling, while at the same time visualizing a sure-footed monkey running along a narrow branch, high above the jungle floor. When the breath was all the way out Ron opened his eyes and followed Rufus up the cable.

* * *

Kim reached a point almost directly under a lift chair and looked up. 

"You folks okay?" she called.

"We're a little cold, but otherwise we're fine," one of the occupants assured her. Kim smiled.

"You just relax, I'll have you down in a second," Kim promised. She had already decided how she was going to do it. Flexing her legs Kim jumped. Her great strength, combined with her weird ability to slow her falls, allowed Kim to land lightly top the chair. Tucking an arm through the chair frame she reached up and grabbed hold of the bracket that attached the chair to the cable. With her other hand she took hold of the pin that held chair and bracket together and pulled. The pin came out and the chair dropped free, eliciting squeaks of fright from the occupants thereof.

"Easy folks, I've got you," Kim soothed, even as she let go of the bracket. Bending her will to the task, Kim lowered herself, the chair and it's passengers gently to the snow covered ground.

* * *

"I can't believe I'm seeing this," Bonnie muttered for the umpteenth time as she watched Kim Possible lower another chair-load of skiers to safety. She and her dorky sidekick were moving up the mountainside like clockwork, making such good progress that the other rescue workers had all concentrated on the other damaged lifts. At the rate things were going the rescue efforts would be over in an hour or so. 

Bonnie found part of herself resenting that. The disaster (though it was turning out to be not so much of a disaster) had gotten her local, then national TV exposure. How many interns got a chance like that? Moreover, Bonnie had discovered that she had a talent for running commentary. Years of watching other people (admittedly so she could offer scathing critiques of their fashion choices) had given her an eye for detail and a certain amount of skill at public speaking. The way the network kept coming back to her for updates suggested that she was doing a good job, intern or no, and Bonnie realized that she was enjoying her moment in the sun. A there Kim was, cutting that moment short with her heroic escapades.

Bonnie winced even as she had the thought. Moment in the sun or not, people's lives were at risk here. Resenting a rapid end to that risk would make her no better than Connie and Lonnie, the older sisters she hated with a passion that made her dislike of Kim seem tame. Besides, Bonnie reasoned, what she had done so far had to have gotten her noticed. If she played her cards right this could be, not a moment in the sun, but the first step on a new career path. A smile touched Bonnie's lips. She could be an international correspondent. Maybe even have her own syndicated talk show. Turning to her cameraman Bonnie said, "Let's make sure we're in position to get an interview when they're done."

* * *

Kim walked out of the remains of the ski lodge. The parts of it that were still stable had been converted into a staging area for injured people waiting for ambulances to take them to area hospitals. The weather had closed in some, making helicopter flights too risky, and the road to the resort was only barely passable. Kim and Ron had been doing what they could to raise the spirits of the all too many kids who had been hurt. Kim did her part by being famous, but she'd been eclipsed by Ron. He had gone into clown mode immediately, and with Rufus' help soon had tear stained faces smiling and laughing. 

There was a fence nearby, normally used for racking skis and poles while their owners were in the lodge getting a snack or a hot drink. It was about three feet high and perfect for leaning on. Kim did so and stared out at the mountain. It looked as peaceful as ever in the fading light.

A sound behind her drew her attention. Her nose caught the smell of hot chocolate.

"Hey, K.P.," Ron said, handing her a paper cup. Kim took it with a smile.

"Hey yourself," she returned, sighing as Ron's arm slipped around her waist.

They stood like that for a few happy minutes before Ron whispered, "Don't look now, but we're on film."

Kim did look. A dozen yards away stood Bonnie Rockwaller and her TV cameraman, who had his camera aimed right at them. Bonnie wore an expression that might have been called a smile, but looked a lot like a smirk. Kim sighed again, in resignation this time. She'd been surprised when Bonnie turned up to interview her and Ron when the rescue wrapped up, but Bonnie had played the part of impartial TV reporter to the hilt, and Kim and Ron had played along. Maybe Bonnie was about to make up for her previous pleasant behavior?

"I heard you two were dating," Bonnie said, starting toward them. To Kim's surprise Bonnie's voice lacked most of its usual condescending sneer.

"Yeah, we're dating," Kim confirmed wearily. "I didn't think you'd be keeping up on high school, being a college woman and all," she added, a touch sarcastically.

Bonnie surprised Kim again by biting off the retort that had obviously popped into her mind. A number of emotions warred for control of Bonnie's expression before a sort of detached coolness settled over her face.

"Yes, well," Bonnie said. "I guess I deserved that," she added. "Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for the interview. The network really liked it and...well, thank you." With that Bonnie turned to leave.

"Bonnie," Kim called, stopping her old rival in mid turn and drawing her head around again.

"You're welcome."

* * *

Drakken looked up from his reading. His eyes were bloodshot from devouring every scrap of information about Kim Possible's latest exploits. Shego was across the conference room table from him, her head down on folded arms, soft snores indicating she had succumbed to the need for sleep. Drakken fought against the sudden desire to yawn and lost. He needed sleep himself. Pushing away from the table he stood up. 

"Shego," he called softly. Shego stirred slightly but didn't awaken.

"Shego," Drakken repeated, a bit louder, as he moved around the table. Shego mumbled something. Drakken put a hand on one of her shoulders and shook her gently. She looked at him bleary eyed.

"Whazzat?" she asked.

"Bedtime, Shego," Drakken commanded, helping her to her feet, guiding her toward her quarters. As he half-led, half-carried Shego Drakken mused about what he had read. One headline had asked, "Super-suit or super girl?" Drakken smiled grimly. Alien origin or no, he supposed it could have been Kim's garishly colored, barely there mission togs that had allowed her to lift that forty-ton ski lift pylon off the man it had fallen on top of, but somehow he doubted it. Nor could he see anyway her suit could have let her lower all those chairs to the ground with no visible means of support. A few observers had made noises about nanotech fibers and smart fabrics, but Drakken was sure that was all bunk. Kim herself had evaded such questions, for the most part. Asked about the design of her new mission clothes she'd replied that they were intended to honor her family and refused to say more, promising that she'd tell all after she graduated from high school. Already the internet was abuzz with rumors and speculation. Drakken wondered if Kim intended to go public with her true nature. Such a move would have some risks, but probably wouldn't be fatal to her career.

"I guess I'll have to take care of that," Drakken chuckled quietly. He also made a mental note to cancel the plan he and Shego had cooked up to 'out' Kim. If she was going to do it herself, all they'd accomplish would be to accelerate her own schedule, and that didn't seem like a profitable expenditure of effort.

After getting Shego to her quarters and onto (if not into) her bed, Drakken headed for his own room. Things were finally coming to a head, he decided. The synthodrones were ready for their final field test. It would be the toughest test of all, and if it succeeded, nothing would stand between him and world domination.

Because Kim Possible would be dead.


	14. Chapter 14

Visigoth29527: Nice observation, though not one I consciously intended. And I'd argue the wisdom order is reversed.

DominusExMachina: This more a fusion of the Superman concept than of a particular telling of it (i.e. Smallville).

Lydia King: Thanks. I'm not quite sure what you mean by 'casual' unless you're referring to non-action sequences? Maybe you could drop me an email with a specific example.

Thanks to: Classic Cowboy, Triaxx2, campy, GargoyleSama, Spyke the Hedgehog, lady-of-tormentdeath, daywalkr82, FAH3, MrDrP, Darkcloud1, MatthewC, Wanderer3, mattb3671 and Akemi.

"Ready? Ok!"

The words echoed in the gymnasium of Middleton High School as the varsity cheer squad launched into another routine.

In and of itself there was nothing unusual about that. The squad was simply engaged in another session of practice, fine tuning a new cheer before the basketball game scheduled for the next evening.

What made things different was the fact that, for the first time in a long time, the words hadn't been spoken by Kim Possible. Instead, a brown haired junior named Hope Phillips was leading the squad, having been elected to the captaincy after Kim stepped down. In fact, Kim wasn't even on the squad any more. She had resigned in January after deciding that her missions took too much time away from practice, and even games.

"If I'm not going to be here, I should let someone who _is _have the honor of being the captain."

Kim did miss cheer squad, but not as much as she had been afraid she might. She missed the uniform more, at least the tank top/skirt version, partly because she'd worn it for so long, and partly because she'd learned that Ron had certain fantasies that involved it. Kim chuckled softly at the thought and leaned back against Ron, who was sitting with her in the bleachers watching the practice session. Sitting like they were, with their arms around each others waists, was a borderline violation of the school's 'No Public Displays of Affection' rule. Fortunately Mr. Barkin, the vice-principal (who wore many hats around the school, from substitute teacher to emergency janitor) had his 'assistant coach' hat on, and his attention was focused on the boys basketball team as it went through its warm up drills.

And it was a good thing it was, for Kim felt Ron's hand slide down from its place on her hip, and felt his fingers slide into the back pocket of her jeans. Kim stifled a giggle and rested her head on Ron's shoulder.

"You're being a naughty boy, Ron," she teased.

"I can't deny it," Ron admitted with a grin, his fingers flexing slightly.

Kim was about to risk a very against the rules kiss when her Kimmunicator chirped. With a slight frown of regret she plucked the device from her pocket and activated it.

"Go, Wade," she said languidly.

"You guys haven't been fooling around again, have you?" Wade demanded somewhat harshly. Kim and Ron both blushed, and Kim cast a quickly look around to see if anyone had overheard.

"No," she declaimed firmly. "We're in school, you know. That's not exactly the best place for that kind of thing."

Wade's own cheeks heated, and Kim giggled. Wade had just turned thirteen, and was starting to experience the wonderful world of puberty himself. His interest in girls, and in the things that made girls different from boys, had greatly intensified lately. And of course, there was the time he had called Kim, only to find her and Ron doing something her father really wouldn't have approved of. Kim and Ron hadn't even noticed the initial call, preoccupied as they were. Their first clue they were being observed had come when they heard his strangled cry of surprise and dismay, and had turned to see the Kimmunicator's auxiliary camera unfolded from its compartment and pointed right at them.

"Anyway," Wade continued, changing the subject, "I just wanted to bring you guys up to date on Drakken."

Kim sat up immediately, Ron following suit. Wade had been scanning the internet for information about the activities of potential enemies for years, but of late he'd been making an especially strong effort vis-à-vis Drakken and Shego. He'd acquired, then extensively modified, an heuristic neural net program: essentially a crude but functional Artificial Intelligence. It had no personality to speak of, and outside its field of expertise it was completely useless, but within that field...

"As you know," Wade began, "Drakken has been raising money a number of ways: selling information, selling stolen goods, selling his own inventions, and hiring out thugs and mercenaries to various criminal organizations and dictatorial governments around the world."

Kim nodded silently. Shego was handling the information and stolen goods end of things for her boss, and for someone who had been an academic for most of her life was proving to be quite good at both stealing, whether it be data or hardware, then turning around and fencing her ill gotten gains. Drakken on the other hand had been busy in his laboratory, and had developed various 'enhancements' that he was offering for sale to anyone who wanted them. As a result the number of criminals with innate powers was rising. That made life difficult not only for Kim and Ron, but for the authorities as well, and finding ways to deal with metahumans was fast becoming law enforcement's greatest challenge.

Topping it all off were the soldiers-for-hire Drakken was providing. They were reportedly utterly loyal to their employers, completely remorseless in action, and totally without fear for their own safety. Those qualities seemed to make them highly effective, if the havoc they were wreaking in the Third World was any sign. The situation in central Africa alone was so bad now that the major powers were beginning to openly discuss the need for armed intervention.

"He's also set up a number of legitimate businesses here in the U.S., probably to launder money. I still can't prove that the companies I suspect are fronts actually _are_ fronts, but I'm working on that."

"Is this just a background brief, or was there something specific you wanted to tell us, Wade?" Kim asked.

Wade blushed slightly and smiled in embarrassment. "Sorry, didn't mean to run like that," he apologized. "Yes, there is something specific."

"We're all ears, buddy," Ron broke in with a grin.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh, all ears!" Rufus piped, scampering up onto Ron's shoulder so he could look at the Kimmunicator's screen too.

"Well, I'm afraid it's not an immediate call to action," Wade clarified, and Ron's face fell. "What _is _happening is that e-mail traffic between various web sites I believe are associated with Drakken and his lairs has increased dramatically in the last two days."

"Meaning?" Kim probed.

"Something is brewing," Wade declared. "I don't know what just yet, but based on previous patterns I'd say we can expect a major move on Drakken's part within twenty-four hours."

* * *

"How bad is it?" Kim, her tone urgent, as she strode into the command center at Global Justice Headquarters, Ron on her heels. 

A harried looking Dr. Elizabeth Director, the eye patch wearing head of Global Justice, glanced up from the tabletop display she'd been studying and regarded the new arrivals with her one good eye.

"Kim, Ron, thank God you're here," Dr. Director said, her face relaxing, her voice sounding much relieved. Then her expression and tone hardened again.

"Very bad," she went on, pointing at the tabletop. The entire surface was a video display, currently showing a map of the Caribbean Sea area. A flashing red ring surrounded a tiny speck of an island.

"This is Dog Island," Dr. Director said, pointing to the ring. "It's not far from Anguilla," she added, indicating a much larger island nearby. Anguilla was also highlighted, but by an orange ring.

"Apparently Dr. Drakken has a lair on Dog Island," Dr. Director explained, "and a fairly well developed one at that, because he seems to have used it as a staging area for an invasion of Anguilla!"

"Seems to have?" Kim and Ron asked as one.

Dr. Director nodded gravely.

"A few hours ago we picked up a transmission from an Anguillan patrol boat." She nodded at a comm-tech, who pressed a button on the edge of the table. The sound that followed was a crackling roar interspersed with loud booms. Barely discernable above the noise was a voice screaming that the ship was under attack and sinking. Then there was a fierce hiss, and silence.

"Then," Dr. Director went on, "Anguillan TV broadcast this..." The table top went to picture-in-picture mode. A grainy image appeared, a shot out to sea that showed something burning brightly and sending up a pillar of black smoke. Then the camera panned to the beach, where boats could be seen coming ashore. The camera zoomed in closer, and Kim and Ron could see armed figures leaping from the boats and heading inland. Over it all was the voice of someone who seemed to be a newscaster, pleading for help from the outside.

"That sure looks like an invasion," Ron agreed. "But what makes you think Drakken...?"

Dr. Director answered the question by nodding to the tech again. The invasion imagery was replaced by the blue-tinged face of Dr. Drakken.

"Greetings, Dr. Director," the recording of Drakken said cheerfully. "By now I'm sure you're aware that something is happening on the Caribbean island of Anguilla. Rest assured that it is I, Dr. Drakken, who am responsible. I'm calling to warn you to keep clear and not try any commando raids or military intervention. If you do, the people of Anguilla will pay a high price, for I assure you, I have no qualms about killing all of them if you cross me."

"Nor will they be the only ones to suffer." The picture cut away to a series of shots of rockets in launch position in a variety of settings. "I have one hundred missiles," Drakken boasted. "Each carries two hundred liters of advanced chemical weapons in a dispersal system of my own design. Each missile can blanket a whole square kilometer with a lethal dose. If you fail to comply with my demands by the indicated time, I'll launch all of them." Drakken's face reappeared. "When Kim Possible arrives ("And I know you'll call her, Betty," he added snidely) contact me on this frequency immediately." Numbers flashed on the screen, then it went dark.

* * *

When they made contact with Drakken he fairly cackled with delight. 

Kim, annoyed, cut him off with a severe, "What do you want, Lipsky?"

Drakken's face twitched violently, and he seemed to struggle to control his temper.

"Dr. Drakken," he insisted through clenched teeth.

"Fine," Kim acquiesced, feigning boredom, "What do you want, _Drakken_?"

"Oh, you teenagers and your sass!" Drakken snarled, once again struggling to control himself. He did so, then pasted a pleasant expression onto his face.

"You, Kim Possible, will come to these coordinates, where you will surrender yourself to the fate I have in store for you." He paused, apparently for drama's sake. When the pause failed to elicit any response Drakken scowled and went on. "You have six hours to comply. Fail to arrive in time, and I launch. Fail to come alone, and I launch. Savvy?"

"If I do what you want, you'll disarm the missiles?" Kim asked.

"Kim," Ron said, his voice low but insistent. She ignored him.

"Of course," Drakken said. "Not only that, but I'll withdraw from Anguilla and evacuate my lair so Global Justice can come in and clean up."

"And no tricks?"

"Kim," Ron repeated more forcefully. Kim silenced him with a raised hand.

"No tricks," Drakken assured, holding his hand up like he was taking an oath.

"I want your word as a scientist," Kim demanded.

"I give you my word as a scientist," Drakken promised.

"All right, I accept your terms," Kim.

"Hah!" Drakken laughed. "That's per..." He was interrupted by Shego leaning into the picture and whispering in his ear.

"Oh, right," Drakken agreed. Returning his attention to Kim, Drakken said, "I want _you_ to promise that _you_ won't pull any tricks, and that you will come alone, Ms. Possible. Hero's honor and all that."

"I promise, on my hero's honor, that I won't pull any tricks, and that I will come alone," Kim said solemnly.

"Perfect!" Drakken resumed gleefully. "I look forward to meeting you for the first, and last, time, Kimberly Ann."

Shego leaned into the picture again, but this time she spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Ya know, this won't actually be the first time you've met her, Dr. D," Shego pointed out. Drakken's face contorted again, and he broke the connection.

"Kim, you can't possibly be serious about..." Ron began. Kim put a finger on his lips to shut him up.

"Ron, I promised that _I_ would go _alone_," she said, giving him a meaningful look.

Ron stared back for a while, then nodded once.

* * *

The GJ special transport slowed to subsonic speed as it approached Dog Island. In the tiny cargo bay Kim listened to the crew as they talked with base. 

"Coming up on the DZ in five minutes. We are twenty-five nautical miles out, height twelve thousand feet," the pilot was saying. "Indicated airspeed five hundred knots and slowing. We are being tracked by fire control radar, but no direct hostile action has been taken against us." Kim smiled grimly. The pilot sounded awfully cool for someone who knew his aircraft was being tracked by anti-aircraft weapons that could open fire at any moment.

For her part Kim was nervous. She seemed to get stronger and tougher with each passing day, but on the other hand she had no idea what Drakken intended to try and do to her. That he intended to kill her seemed obvious. What means he would use toward that end were a mystery. 'Oh well,' she resolved. 'Risk goes with the territory.'

When the jump light turned from yellow to green Kim threw herself out of the jump door and went plummeting toward the jungle covered hill that was Dog Island. As she descended her eyes picked out signs of habitation: generator exhaust ports, access tunnels, weapons emplacements, and hovercraft takeoff and landing platforms. At three thousand feet Kim pulled the D-ring on her parachute harness and felt the sharp jerk as the canopy popped open and slowed her fall.

* * *

"A parachute?" Shego muttered, perplexed by the image on the security monitors. "What does she need a parachute for?" 

Drakken looked puzzled too. "I don't know," he admitted. "After the ski resort incident last winter I thought..." He let his words trail off as his mind worked at the problem. What had happened to her supposed hovering ability? The reports from the resort had said she lowered trapped skiers without any visible use of equipment to do so. But the video evidence was too poor to verify or refute the claims, and eyewitness testimony was notoriously unreliable

Drakken suddenly felt a pang of doubt. How many of Kim's supposed extraordinary abilities were the result of gadgets, and how many were a product of her amazing DNA? Drakken had to admit he had no idea. He and Shego were a long way from advancing even tentative theories about how Kim's genes would express themselves. Had he invested huge amounts of money and time on massive overkill?

Drakken took a deep breath and shook his head. No, whether Kim's 'powers' were innate or artificial, she was still merely flesh and blood, and no flesh and blood could endure what he had planned. If it was overkill, so be it. At least Kim would no longer be around to interfere in his plans.

* * *

Landing, Kim shucked the parachute and started walking toward one of the entrance tunnels she had spotted. She noted video cameras tracking her movement, but ignored them.

* * *

"All right, time for part one," Drakken said as he watched Kim, in her gaudy blue and red uniform, approach. A gloved finger pressed a button.

* * *

Ahead of her, Kim saw hatches in the ground swing up, throwing aside the dirt and sand that had covered them. Two turrets, each mounting four fifty caliber machineguns, reared up and aimed themselves at her. 

She kept walking.

The guns opened fire.

* * *

Drakkenlooked onas Kim kept coming, taking no more notice of the hundreds of huge bullets slamming into her than Drakken would of a sprinkle of rain. Her path took her between the gun turrets, which kept right on firing, at least until they destroyed each other. 

"Interesting," Shego deadpanned.

Drakken pressed another button. The next two turrets mounted flame throwers that doused Kim in blazing napalm. She walked out of the inferno without so much as a singed eyebrow.

Drakken scoffed. Unable to resist, he activated the lair's public address system.

"You're bulletproof and fireproof, Possible, but I'm not impressed," he said mockingly. "Time for me to give you the cold shoulder."

While Shego rolled her eyes at the awful pun, Drakken pressed a third button, one that resulted in Kim being drenched in liquid nitrogen.

As the low temperature fluid evaporated it clouded the view with thick fog condensed from the humid tropical air. When the mist dispersed Drakken and Shego saw Kim entombed in a sheath of ice at least six inches thick.

"We have Kimcicle," Shego sneered. She started to grin, and Drakken had begun to laugh, when the ice cracked, then flew apart. Kim stepped out of what was left and kept right on coming.

* * *

Reaching the access tunnel Kim found it closed off by a heavy looking steel door. Reaching out with one hand she pushed gently. The door flexed slightly. Smiling, Kim began pushing more firmly.

* * *

A camera mounted inside that particular tunnel showed the door steadily bending inwards. Microphones picked up the groan of metal as it stretched and distorted. 

"She is definitely coming," Shego quipped as the door gave way in a shower of broken concrete.

"This no time for flippancy, Shego!" Drakken snapped. "She's stronger than we thought. A lot stronger. And tougher, too. It's possible," he gulped, "that the trap won't work."

"And this is no time for second guessing ourselves!" Shego snapped in turn. "Besides," she added slyly, "If the trap doesn't work we still have our ace in the hole."

"That's true," Drakken allowed, relaxing. He keyed the PA system again. "All right, all right. You're really tough, so what?" he bellowed, addressing Kim as she moved deeper into the lair. "You said you'd surrender. One of my henchmen will show you where you need to go. Let me remind you that any failure to follow my instructions will result in the deaths of thousands of innocent people."

* * *

Drakken's voice echoed in the narrow corridor. When it faded Kim heard the sounds of footsteps. She said nothing, either to Drakken, or to the henchman when he hove into view. The lackey gestured for her to follow, and Kim obeyed without a word. 

Unbeknownst to Kim, Drakken was broadcasting events as they happened, and people all over the world were watching her in action.

Unbeknownst to Drakken and Shego, eyes throughout their lair were glued to the same broadcast.

The henchman led Kim into a vast, circular room with a high ceiling and a pit of some sort in the center. A large windowed booth overlooked the chamber, and Kim could make out the forms of Drakken and Shego, along with a number of henchmen, inside it.

"Ah, Kim Possible, we meet at last," Drakken said pleasantly.

Kim quirked an eyebrow at him. "I don't know, Drakken. We were a lot closer to each other in California, and you weren't hiding behind six inches of armored glass then."

"Be that as it may!" Drakken snapped irritably, giving Shego a brief, sour glance. "We aren't here to discuss the semantics of who met who when, we're here for you finishing surrendering yourself to me."

"Fine," Kim sighed. "What now?"

Drakken was clearly agitated, and part of Kim was enjoying tweaking him, but another part knew it would be unwise to push him too far.

"Walk down into the pit," Drakken commanded.

Kim obeyed. The pit's walls were sloped and cut into steps. At the bottom, in the center, was a metallic frame with heavy manacles attached to it.

"Place yourself in the restraining frame."

Kim complied, and the manacles snapped shut around her ankles, waist, wrists, torso and neck.

"Those bonds are made of a titanium alloy twice as strong as steel, Kim Possible. I fancy even you will find them difficult to break."

There was a whirring sound, and sections of the steps that ringed the pit dropped down to reveal nozzles of some sort.

"More flamethrowers, Drakken?" Kim asked.

"Not quite. These are just a little bit hotter. Hot enough, in fact, that I had to design those restraints with internal cooling systems to keep them from melting." Drakken leered down at her and Kim saw him reach out to push a button. Clicking sounds emerged from the vents. Kim had just enough time to take a deep breath before waves of white heat washed over her.

* * *

Drakken gazed down at the blazing firepit. 

"Take a teen hero, roast at three thousand degrees for twelve hours, and see what's left afterward," he chortled.

There was a chime.

"Incoming call from Global Justice," Shego announced.

"Doctor Director," Drakkensaid to the woman who appeared on the main display.

"Well, Drakken," Dr. Director said, her voice trembling, "We gave you what you wanted. Now it's time for you to keep your end of the bargain."

Drakken chuckled. "Dr. Director," he said, shaking his head. "Give up my means to blackmail the world into bowing to my will? I don't think so."

Dr. Director's eye narrowed. "I had a feeling you wouldn't keep your word," she admitted.

"And yet you had no choice but to..." Drakken began to gloat, but was cut off by Dr. Director saying, "So we didn't keep ours, either."

Drakken started, his eyes bulging as he started back at the head of Global Justice.

Behind them adark shape dropped from the ceiling of the chamber, alighting between the booth and the still blazing pit, assuming a fighting stance.

"DRAKKEN!" a familiar voice rang.

'St-Stoppable?" Shego stammered.

"'Nd'me!" a smaller, higher, but equally power voice chirped, as a tiny pink blob appeared on one of the figure's shoulders.

"Fools!" Drakken raged. "You've condemned millions to..." He stopped mid-sentence as the pink blob raised a tiny electronic device.

* * *

"Go for it, Rufus!" Ron growled. With a hateful glare at Drakken, Rufus pushed the red button that was the device's only control.

Thunder rumbled through the lair.

Drakken shrieked in horrified surprise as his missiles began blowing up.

"While Kim was keeping you busy, Rufus and I were out planting bombs, Drakken," Ron said triumphantly.

Drakken was beside himself, twitching and jerking with rage. Ron could feel the intensity of the man's anger.

"Synthodrones to the execution chamber at once!" Drakken bellowed. Almost immediately doors around the perimeter of the room opened, and scores of armed figures streamed out of them.

"You may have thwarted my plans this time, Stoppable," Drakken rasped, "But you won't catch me, not with an army of synthodrones between us and no Kim Possible to help you." He and Shego were already edging toward a door that probably led to an escape route of some kind. Ron grinned up at Drakken, an act that stopped the mad scientist in his tracks.

"No Kim?" Ron asked mockingly. "What makes you say that?"

Drakken felt his heart lurch in his chest. Behind the buffoon a dark shape was rising from the firepit. A dark shape with flowing hair. Wearing a blue and red suit with an 'S' on the chest.

"Impossible!" Drakken gasped.

"Dude, you left off the 'K'," Ron retorted.

Kim walked up next to Ron.

"Hey," she said calmly, never taking her eyes off the still paralyzed Drakken..

"Hey yourself," Ron replied with equal calm. "What say you take care of Drakken and Shego, while Rufus and I deal with the 'drones?" he suggested. Kim eyed the synthodrones, who were standing still, awaiting further orders.

"Are you sure you can handle all of them?" Kim asked.

Ron made a dismissive gesture. "Please, Kim. There's only a hundred and fifty of them."

"Okay then," Kim grinned. She gathered her legs and leapt up toward the booth. Even as the sound of shattering glass reached his ears, Ron assessed his adversaries. Synthodrones mimicked people quite closely, down to and including the way their brains worked. With sudden insight, Ron knew the mystical monkey would work just fine against them. In an aside to Rufus, still perched on his shoulder Ron said, "Ready to wreak some havoc, little buddy?"

"Hnk'ha!" Rufus affirmed.

Ron raised the Lotus Blade to an attack position. "Lets do it!"

* * *

Even as she crashed through the windows enclosing the booth Kim saw Shego and Drakken step through the door they had been headed toward earlier. It snapped shut behind them and the door, along with a circular section of the wall, raced away at high speed.

"Some sort of escape pod," Kim reasoned, charging down the tunnel the pod's departure had revealed. The door had a window in it, Kim noticed, and she could see Shego looking back at her, waving, a mocking grin on her face.

Kim ran faster.

* * *

"She's gaining on us!" Shego exclaimed in disbelief, even though she knew that by now, nothing about Kim Possible should surprise her. Drakken responded by opening the pod's throttle as far as it would go. The distance between them and their red haired nemesis opened again, but all too quickly the rate of gain slowed to nil, and Possible began to gain on them again.

"She's coming," Shego announced nervously.

"Not to worry, Shego, we're almost there," Drakken assured her, not quite able to keep his own voice from quavering.

There was a lurch, and the pod slowed briefly, then accelerated again. Bright sunlight flooded in as the pod became part of and was whisked away by an aircraft capable of hypersonic speeds. Shego looked down and back with relief as they climbed away. Even though Kim couldn't hear her Shego felt the need to vent.

"Hah, Kimmie! You lose, unless you can fly!"

A blue blur emerged from the end of the escape tunnel.

"Oh, crap," Shego swore softly. "She can fly!"

* * *

Dr. Director watched as Sheila Gogh and Andrew Lipsky were bundled aboard a GJ transport for the their trip back to the United States. While Kim and Ron had dealt with the main threat on Dog Island, she had led a GJ Strike Team against Lipsky's forces on Anguilla proper. The fight had been short but fierce. The synthodrones had fought to the death as a matter of course, but without much skill. Most of their human leaders had opted to be live cowards. Still, hundreds of Anguillans had been killed or wounded. On balance though, that was better than the thousands or millions who might have perished. Dr. Director glanced over to where a subdued Kim Possible was watching Ron Stoppable wash off the syntho-goo he'd been drenched in when she'd plucked him and his pet from Dog Island. She'd been ecstatic when she's swooped down on GJ Field Headquarters on Anguilla with Lipsky in one hand and Gogh in the other. Ecstatic, until she'd seen the devastation the villainous duo had left in their wake. That things could have been much worse but for her efforts was cold comfort to the teenager.

'You'd better get used to it, Kim,' Dr. Director thought silently, 'because no matter how hard you try, you won't always be able to save everyone, superpowers or no.'


	15. Chapter 15

_JoeEngland: You caught me :)._

_MatthewC: I agree it wrapped up pretty quickly. That's in part because I wrote most of the chapter in one sitting (as I usually do). I hit most of the things I had in mind for the climax (the firepit was one of them) and I may have gotten caught up in wanting to see how things ended and rushed a bit. I'm glad, though, that you enjoyed the chapter despite those weaknesses._

_FAH3: Not at this time._

_MrDrP: I agree with you on that point. I was trying to interject a little humor, and may have tried too hard (or not hard enough, and took the lazy way)._

_Triaxx2: I wondered about the scene changes, but at the time they seemed to fit the mood (fast paced action). Each scene probably could have been a bit longer for pacing purposes._

_Mike9: I've never been a fan of the endlessly returning villain, and never intended to introduce one._

_Daywalkr82: I've always wanted to see the good guys do that to a villain :)._

_DominusExMachina: Sorry, but I've already done the Fortress. I borrowed the take I used from 'Lois and Clark: the New Adventures of Superman'._

_Thanks to: surforst, noveler00, Psycho King, GargoyleSama and lady-of-tormentdeath._

Ten Years Later

Kim lounged on the couch in the living room of her parents' house. Ron was seated beside her, and she was leaning against him, half asleep. Her brother Jim was seated in a nearby chair, watching a GWA wrestling event on TV. Ron was supposedly watching it as well, but he was drowsy too, and wasn't paying much attention. Jim's wife, Alicia, was in the kitchen with Kim's mom, helping get supper ready. Kim's dad was still at the science center, but had promised he'd be home in time for dinner.

Kim opened one eye and glanced at the TV. Seated on the floor in front of it was her nephew, Jim and Alicia's four year old son James III (Jimmy to everyone), who was surrounded by a score or so of naked mole rats. Kim smiled at the sight. One of the things she and Ron had done after learning what Drakken and Shego had done to Rufus was track down all of his fellow research subjects. It hadn't been easy, but they had located about half of them. There had been some talk of destroying the lot of them, or shipping them all back to Africa, but in the end cooler heads had prevailed, and now the hill behind the Possible home was the site of a growing warren of tunnels, and the largest naked mole rat colony in North America. Rufus, now getting on in years, had found a mate and was a grandfather several times over. Most of the mole rats clustered around (and on) Jimmy were Rufus' children or grandchildren, and had inherited their sire's fascination with the spectacle that was professional wrestling.

Kim sighed happily. It was good to be home again, surrounded by friends and family. Of course, the house she and Ron shared was 'home' too, but this place still came first in her mind in that regard. She closed her eyes again, snuggled against Ron, and was on the verge of dropping off to sleep when the wrestling program ended.

"I want to see the news, Jimmy," Jim said, and Kim heard the channel change.

"Leading off our coverage tonight," the anchor said, "Middleton's most famous son and daughter return to attend their ten year high school reunion. Kim groaned softly. Jimmy clapped excitedly.

"Auntie Kim's on TV!" he exclaimed.

Kim opened her eyes again. Flickering on the screen was footage of her and Ron in action. She was hefting a car over her head, before throwing it at something off screen. Jimmy clapped and cheered like he was watching his beloved Son of Steel Toe on WrestleMayhem.

"Kim Possible," the anchor intoned, "Strange visitor from another planet, with powers and abilities far beyond those of human beings; and Ron Stoppable, master of monkey kung-fu, wielder of the Lotus Blade, adept of the Mystical Monkey Power. Each by themselves is a formidable foe to any would be villain. Together they form a team that can only call...The World's Finest!"

That was the cue for the lead segment, a recap of Kim's and Ron's careers that segued into the upcoming reunion.

Kim was sitting up by then, glaring at the TV.

"Remind me," she said, "to smack Bonnie Rockwaller the next time I see her, for coining that 'Strange Visitor' line."

Jim gave his sister a teasing glance. "It's not Bonnie's fault you went public with the whole 'I'm an alien' thing, Kim," he pointed out.

"Ok," Kim parried, "I'll allow the 'Visitor from another planet' part, but I am _so_ not strange."

Ron chuckled. "Look on the bright side, K.P.," he advised. "'Strange Visitor' is a heck of a lot better than, say, 'freakish invader' or something like that."

* * *

The reunion itself went better than had expected. There had been TV crews and reporters outside, but they kept a respectful distance, and stayed outside. There was further embarrassment in the form of a 'where are we now' video presentation that saved Kim and Ron for last, but in the main Kim enjoyed herself, catching up with old friends. Ron had a good time too, especially since he'd feared that the social awkwardness that had dogged him all through high school would still be a factor. His fears had proved groundless, though, and he found himself at the center of a knot of people that included some girls who wouldn't have given him the time of day before. 

Kim, who had been chatting with Monique, was thinking about heading Ron's way and prying loose some of the girls who were trying to be overly friendly, when a familiar chime sounded.

"What's the sitch, Wade?" Kim asked as she activated her Kimmunicator. Ron was at her side before she finished speaking, having slipped out of the crowd around him without them noticing he'd done it.

"Sorry to interrupt your reunion, guys," Wade apologized. "Double trouble, I'm afraid. Kim, heavy rains in New Hampshire have a dam there threatening to burst. The locals asked if you could help."

"Absolutely," Kim nodded. "What's the other trouble?"

"The Toyman is at it again, in Dallas. He's holding the attendees of a toy convention hostage."

Kim darted a glance at Ron. "Split up?" she asked.

"You get the dam, I'll deal with the crazy curio creator," Ron nodded. The tiny pink head of a naked mole rat popped up out of the pocket of Ron's jacket. It belonged to Dexter, Rufus' eldest son, who had taken over from his father as far as going on missions was concerned.

"Augh, bad pun," Dexter chirped, shaking his head in disgust.

The crowd had gathered around, listening.

"Sorry, folks, but Ron and I have to go," Kim announced. "See you again in five years," she added, then reached up and pulled open her blouse to reveal the world famous 'S' shield.

* * *

Elsewhere

"So, Kim Possible is at it again, eh?" Drakken snorted as he watched the news report.

"What do you expect?" Shego asked sarcastically. "Saving innocent people is what goody-goodies like her do."

Drakken snorted again and turned away from the screen. His latest lair was on the small side, but was the most lavishly equipped on any he'd ever had. It was also the most secure, he supposed, since there was almost no chance of anyone ever looking for it. Or at least, not of looking for it where it was. Drakken smiled a cold but immensely pleased smile.

It had been a stroke of pure genius, really, letting himself and Shego get captured by Kim Possible and her sidekick. Both of them had been sentenced to life without parole, as expected. Thanks to some prearranged string pulling and behind the scenes manipulation, Drakken and Shego had been sent to the Federal Penitentiary at Terra Haute, Indiana. Since the prison's rules forbade mixed gender cell assignments, he and Shego had been housed separately. Not that it made any difference. The tunneling machines Drakken had placed there beforehand simply bored passages to each cell. When the breaches were made they were fitted with trap doors and concealed by holographic projections that blended perfectly with the cell floors. Cellmates were dealt with by fitting them with neural compliance chips while they were sleeping. The chips were used whenever Drakken and/or Shego wanted to leave their cells, inducing their wearers to go to sleep at the uttering of a command phrase. The tunnels led from the cells to the lair, where synthodrone copies of Shego and Drakken stood by to take their places in their cells, should the two need or desire to be away for extended periods. A memory swapping machine allowed the real and faux pairs to keep each other current on what had happened in the prison during each others absences.

The scheme had worked for ten years, allowing Drakken and Shego the opportunity to work almost unhindered. After all, no matter what might be said in the criminal underworld, whenever Kim checked, her arch foes were still safely locked away.

"Brilliant," Drakken muttered to himself. "Absolutely brilliant." Then, loudly, "Shego!"

"Uh, I'm still standing right next to you, Dr. D. Keep it down."

Drakken growled irritably before forcing a pleasant expression onto his face.

"I have something for you, my dear," he proclaimed.

"Oh really? What is it?" Shego cooed mockingly, eyelashes fluttering in feigned anticipation.

"A little something the henchmen found near Lake Middleton a few days ago," Drakken said smugly, lifting a metal box and opening the lid.

Within, on a bed of black cloth, lay a stone that seemed to glow with a baleful inner light.

Shego's eyes widened. "Is that...?" she asked hopefully, looking up at Drakken.

"Kryptonite," Drakken nodded. The stone in the box was only the second piece known to have been found of the mineral that could weaken Kim Possible. It had taken years to find, but now at last they had the means to defeat the one foe that stood between them and global conquest.

Shego must have realized the same thing, if the cruel, hate filled smile that split her face was any sign.

_Well, that concludes this little exercise. I'm honored so many people took the time to review it. I'm still not sold on fusions (as opposed to crossovers, which are an entirely different animal) but I think I learned a few things by doing this one. Thank you all very much for reading it._


End file.
